The Longest Night
by newyork24-7
Summary: When chaos yet again strikes their family, the McCords will either pull together or fall apart.
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place somewhere mid season 3 but doesn't impact on any of the long running story arcs as such. Since I haven't finished watching season 3 yet, I apologise in advance for any errors that may crop up.**

* * *

"You were up early."

Henry glanced up at his wife's words and a small smile played across his lips. "That's normally my line. Coffee?"

"Absolutely." Elizabeth waggled her fingers at him. "Gimme." Her hand brushed his arm as she leaned into him, kissing his cheek. "I was disappointed to find your side of the bed empty, neither one of us has early morning meetings, I'd hoped that we could have had some time together. We've not had much of that recently, what with national crisis after national crisis."

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "What kind of time did you have in mind?"

Catching sight of the smirk on her husband's face, Elizabeth poked her finger into his side. "You know full well what I mean, I'm not spelling it out for you."

"Really? Because I'd like to hear exactly what you were thinking about."

His mouth trailed down her neck, his smile widening against her skin as she felt her breath hitch, a small giggle escaping her. His coffee mug was abandoned on the counter, his arms going around her waist. "I suppose I could share a few snippets tonight."

Henry ministrations stilled. "I uh, I'm going to be late tonight." He picked up his mug again and gave a shrug. "I need to work."

"Which is normally my line." She pointed between them as she remarked, "I feel like we're trading places." When he didn't respond to her joke – she knew it wasn't a good one, but still she normally at least got an attempt at a smile – she asked, "Everything ok at work?"

"Yeah, just busy."

"Is that code for I can't talk about it?"

"Nope, that's me just saying that I'm busy."

"And Dmitri?" she asked nervously. If there was one person who could make her husband act out with his normal character, then it was him. He was under Henry's skin and she often felt as though she was still on eggshells whenever they spoke about him. Henry hadn't even mentioned him since he was reunited with his sister, but Elizabeth sometimes still felt that he hung over their family like a spectre.

"Nothing new." His eyes meet hers, the corners crinkling with his smile as he added, "I'm just busy at work. You don't need to read anything into this."

"Ok, But I'm here if you need me."

There was a thundering of feet from above them, the slamming of a door and a shout of, "Ally get out the bathroom! I need to brush my teeth!"

"I think the kids are up," Elizabeth remarked dryly.

"What gives you that idea?" Henry replied on a laugh.

The thundering extended to the stairs, where Stevie appeared, jumping the last three steps. Elizabeth winced. "I hate when you all do that, one day one of you is going to fall and really hurt yourself."

Stevie rolled her eyes. "Out of all the risks this family might face, I don't think the stairs feature on the list."

"They're on my list. Walk," she told her daughter.

A screech emanated from upstairs. "Jason! Give it back! Mom! Dad! Tell Jason to give me back my calculator!"

"Calculator?" Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her temples. "They're fighting over a calculator?"

"Apparently," Henry acknowledged dryly.

They both winced as Jason bellowed back, "I need it, I have a maths test today."

"We're expected to have one for class, if I need to ask for one of the spares, I'll get a demerit. Tell him to use his own!"

"I'm not having this conversation between floors," Elizabeth shouted back. "Downstairs please." She turned to her husband. "They get demerits for not having calculators?"

Stevie looked up from her bowl of cereal. "Yeah, it's to do with exhibiting personal responsibility for both your belongings and your education." She gave a shrug as her parents turned to stare at her. "What? Alison told me."

"I feel like we didn't quite pick up on the measure of the Quakers when we picked that school. They're much more rigid than I expected."

Henry snorted into his coffee, his smile fading into a mildly pained frown as their two younger children descended into the kitchen, arguing as they went.

"It's not yours!" Alison screeched. "You can't just take it because you've decided that you need it more!"

"It's for the greater good," Jason argued back. "If I fail this test it could set me down a dark and terrible path, completely wreck my future career."

"Overdoing it there, buddy," Henry remarked.

"Ok then. Since our government frequently eschews doing the right thing for doing the thing that provides the greatest good then we should apply the same principle here. Me passing my maths test will provide a better longer term outcome than the negative outcome of Alison getting a demerit." He directed a triumphant smirk at his sister. "So, I should have the calculator."

"So, let's get this right, you're trying to argue that who gets this calculator should be a utilitarian decision?" Elizabeth asked.

"Exactly."

"Hmph." Elizabeth shot a smile across at Henry, before telling their son, "Unfortunately this is more of an autocratic household than a democratic one, and we all know that autocrats frequently don't make decisions based on the greater good, never mind a skewed version of that. So you still need to give that back to your sister. Take the one I keep in the drawer."

Alison snatched the calculator back from her brother. "Haha."

"The one you keep in the drawer isn't scientific. I need a scientific one for my test. I don't have time to get one for today."

"What happened to your one?" Henry asked.

"I lost it," Jason admitted grudgingly.

"Then you have to take the consequences of that," Henry told him. "Take some personal responsibility, your sister shouldn't get a demerit because you can't look after your belongings."

"Exactly, so I suggest you get to school and start trying find out if you can borrow one."

Jason gave a snort of disgust. "So, it's ok for you to apply whatever rules you feel like, when you feel like it? That's fair."

"Life isn't fair and this is our house. Your mother and I pay the bills, so yeah, you do what we say. Go to school," Henry finished firmly.

"Fine." He ducked out of the way of his Mom's attempt at a hug, stomping to the front door and standing there sulkily, staring at the floor.

Stevie tipped the remnants of her milk down the sink and told her parents, "I'll take him to school. Ally, you ready? I can drop you on the way as well."

"Yeah." She grabbed a slice of toast off her Mom's plate and kissed her cheek. "See you later."

"Have a good day Noodle." She looked over and smiled at her eldest. "Thank you, I hope he doesn't give you too much of a headache on the way in."

"It won't be anything I can't handle."

"Good luck on your test," Elizabeth shouted through to her son. The reply she got was a grunt and the slamming of the front door. Sighing, she turned to her husband and told him, "It was vaguely creepy to see you channel Dean Ward, do I need to arrange an exorcism?"

He gave a soft laugh. "No, but I kind of wish Jason had picked up a little bit more of that particular lesson, during his brief time with them."

"He's being a teenager," Elizabeth shrugged. "He's just a bit more vocal than the girls were. They can be much sneakier than he is."

"So, we should be glad that he's flaunting authority and ignoring personal responsibility because he's doing it to our faces?"

"Sometimes we need to pick out small positives. Parenting and politics have taught me that." She tilted her head and asked Henry, "You free for lunch today?"

"I should be, don't know if I'll have time to get to your office and back though."

"How about the park then? It's halfway between us."

"That sounds good." He leaned forward and kissed her, the briefest of touches across her lips. "I'll see you then." He glanced at his watch. "I better go. Class starts at 9am and I need to set up."

He rushed off and Elizabeth opened her mouth to say I love you, but he was already gone. She glanced around her empty kitchen and remarked aloud to herself, "Wow, I'm actually last to leave, who thought that would ever happen?"

* * *

Elizabeth could feel her details eyes boring into her back, as she dropped onto the bench she and Henry would meet at. She knew how her security felt about her park walks, but they were a hint of normality in her life. She checked her watch, Henry was late, he was quickly becoming the new her in their relationship, it made her smile, she could tease him about that and his poor timekeeping when he finally got here.

Her mobile rang, Henry's name on the screen. "And here was me beginning to worry that I was being stood up," she greeted him.

There was an awkward silence and then his voice. "Yeah…about that."

"You're standing me up."

"I'm sorry, I really am. I started marking papers and then I lost track of the time. If I left now, I wouldn't make it back in time for my afternoon classes. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"It's ok, I can let it slide this time. But I will hold you to that promise."

His tone was warm as he told her, "I'm counting on it."

"Any idea what time you'll get home tonight?"

"I'm not sure."

"The perils of having two jobs."

He gave a mirthless soft laugh. "Yeah. Look I'll let you go and grab something for your lunch, try and salvage what you can of your time out the office. I'll see you soon, alright?"

"Alright. I –"

The phone line went dead and she rolled her eyes when she saw he had hung up already, second time today she hadn't been able to get those words in. Third time lucky, maybe. She twirled her mobile in her hand for a moment before sliding it back into her pocket. Henry was just distracted, she reminded herself, it had been a stressful few months for them all and because of that she was reading too much into this. She knew what her husband was like when he became immersed in work, and this was exactly it. Sighing, she stood up and began to walk, hearing her security fall into step behind her.

The path curved ahead, a long swoop into a blind corner, a corner she knew her security hated. They'd only cleared the park because the path was next to the road, so they could run the car slowly along the edge of the park, following her for that bit. Sure enough she heard the car engine start and her head ducked as she smiled at how she knew their moves now. There was a crackle on her security's radio and she heard them tell her, "Crowd of runners coming from ahead. Move to the right please Ma'am."

The mass of runners appeared as they said the words and unthinkingly, Elizabeth dodged to her left, separating herself from her detail, placing them at the park edge and her in the main body. "Ma'am!" She heard one of them protest her move, saw them start to try and make their way through the crowd. Almost simultaneously she felt someone approach her from her opposite side.

She heard his words before she saw him. "I tried to reach out to you, Elizabeth, you shouldn't have ignored me."

A frown was on her face as she took in that familiar voice, she tilted her head to see the face under the baseball cap.

She didn't manage it before there was a bang and she felt the oddest sensation of pain and pressure to her chest, the shock causing her to stumble back and fall onto the grass.

Her detail was shouting, and she could hear screaming.

She felt odd and she blinked up at the sky for a moment before turning her head to the side, she felt as though minutes had passed but realistically, she knew it was only a matter of seconds.

She saw someone drop to their knees next to her, finally saw his face and her thoughts felt almost sluggish as she realised, she was looking at Ray Merchant. His hands were up in the air and she watched as something fell from one, landing on the grass a few metres from her, and as she took in the sight of the gun, it dawned on her exactly what had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was midway through this chapter when I realised the show has two Matt's. Hopefully that won't cause confusion later on.**

 **The events of the next chapter will likely run alongside the timeline of this one.**

 **The response so far has been amazing :) and I hope that this doesn't disappoint. I'm sad to say that the next update won't be as quick.**

* * *

In his years of service, first in the military and then in the service, Matt knew that it only took one wrong move, one overlooked detail or just a split second for the worst, for the unthinkable to happen. He had always kept that in mind when planning out security for the Secretary of State, whilst knowing that other factors would continue to revolve out with his control, and Elizabeth McCord, however delightful she was as an individual, could be difficult to protect.

He knew from others in the service that those they guarded would heed warnings about their safety and would compromise. The McCords didn't compromise, their reasons at times were fair, they wanted their children to have a normal life, they wanted to be involved in their children's extra-circular activities, these were reasons he found understandable, didn't make them easier to manage, but he understood them. He had never, on the other hand, thought of the couples afternoon walks in the park as an understandable risk to the Secretary's safety. It was a point made every time they arranged to meet there, raised by both himself and his predecessor, and a point that was dismissed by both the Secretary and her husband. So, the walks continued.

In most ways he had grown used to the outings, security was as tight as they could make it in a public park on their limited budget and the Secretary was a liked figure on DC circuit and within the media. Neither of these facts made him drop his guard, but he took some comfort from them. Today however, he had felt a shiver of unease, a feeling of foreboding and yet he hadn't been sure why. This feeling had only grown when he realised that Henry McCord wasn't coming and yet the Secretary, instead of turning back, had continued her walk.

Then came that split second, that wrong move that he always dreaded. He had called for her to move to the right and she had gone left. He'd known it had been a mistake on her part, she had been distracted and the grass on the left had been closer to her. That had been his mistake, he hadn't considered that, he had just thought that it was safer to have her closer to the car, that any exit they might have to make wouldn't be blocked by the runners.

It hadn't worked like that. Now that mass of people – he wasn't sure why there had been so many – blocked him and every other member of the detail from the woman they were meant to keep safe. He kept her in his line of vision, saw a walker he hadn't noticed earlier, approach her. He heard the shots before he saw the gun. Saw the Secretary flail and fall, as the runners screamed, most dispersing, some freezing in the chaos.

He was trained to secure her in this event, he saw the others move towards the shooter, that was their role in the event of this. The shooter was already on his knees, gun on the grass, hands on his head, muttering under his breath.

The Secretary was flat on her back, head turned to the side, looking at the shooter, her eyes dazed and unfocused. One hand resting against the middle of her chest, blood seeping through her fingers, and he could hear her ragged breaths. The grass around her was already stained. All this he saw in the first few seconds, in the next one he knew he had limited time. He picked her up and ran, the car was close and he bundled her into it. "Go! Drive! George Washington, gunshot wound, radio ahead," He instructed.

His fingers fumbled on his radio. "Shots fired, Bluebird is down." She was sprawled across the backseat, her upper half across his legs. He needed to find the wound. He undid the buttons of her blazer. "I'm sorry Ma'am." Her white blouse was saturated, the red bloom spreading outwards, her hand resting in the middle. Matt's hand slipped under hers and pressed down, hard, feeling her arch in pain as he applied the pressure. "We're going to the hospital," he assured her, "but I need to apply pressure." His spare hand ran quickly over her back, searching for an exit wound that he didn't find.

The radio crackled again. "Is Bluebird secure?"

"Affirmative. En route to George Washington Hospital." He turned his attention back to her again. "Stay with me Ma'am."

Her eyes blinked up at him, they were clouded, unfocused. Her breathing was harsh, he could hear an audible rattle with each inhale. Her voice was only just audible, every syllable a clear struggle as she forced out, "Hen…ry."

"We'll get him Ma'am. He'll get us at the hospital."

Her mouth moved again, but this time her voice failed her. Her fingers clutched around his hand and he squeezed it back in what he hoped was a reassuring move. The rattle was worsening, her breaths shortening. He could see her eyes fluttering for a few seconds before they closed.

"How long till arrival?" He shouted to the front of the car.

"ETA two minutes."

The sirens blared, and as her breathing worsened, became more erratic, Matt struggled to assess it over the din. They needed to be there already.

Finally, the car stopped, the tyres screeching in protest. The door was flung open and the Secretary was unceremoniously hauled out of the car by Seth and onto an awaiting gurney. He was out after them in a matter of seconds. "Close range gunshot wound to the chest, I haven't found an exit wound. Initially conscious until a few minutes ago," he updated the staff as he ran alongside them.

"Pulse is thready," he heard someone chirp, there were so many people he couldn't tell who it was.

"Probably going into hypovolemic shock, contact the blood bank, put more O neg on standby until we get her cross matched and get cardiothoracics down here now!"

He felt a hand at his elbow. "Sir, are you injured as well?"

Matt stopped moving and blinked down in confusion at the staff member. "What? No? Why…" He raised his hand to gesticulate and stopped when he saw the blood. Glancing down at himself, the large, deep splotches of red that marked him, he realised how he must look, like another victim. He shook his head. "No, it's not my blood."

He started to walk again, through one set of double doors. His footsteps heavier as he saw that her blood had dripped onto the floor, bright red droplets and smears where the wheels of the gurney had rolled through it. Matt drew up next to Seth at the second set of doors, glancing into the busy resus room through the narrow glass pane. His mobile rang and he groped for it, realising his hands were shaking now that the initial adrenaline had worn off. He recognised the number on screen. "Sir."

"Any update on the Secretary's condition?"

"None, Sir. Medical staff are working on her now."

"Is the injury severe?"

"Gunshot wound to the chest, close range."

"Dammit." The head of the service gave a deep sigh. "Ok, POTUS has been made aware of the incident, I'll update him of this. Shooter remains secure and FBI are going to take custody of him. At this time we can't be certain that he was working in isolation, agents are heading to secure Dr McCord and the children."

"What location are we securing them at."

"Dr McCord will likely come to the hospital, I don't think he'll accept anything else."

"No Sir, I don't think he will, but what about the children?"

There was another sigh. "We'll try and keep the news from them until Dr McCord has decided what he wants to do. It's likely that the media will have this news soon and they will camp outside their home, not exactly conductive to secrecy, so the President has suggested the Whitehouse, in the private residences. A new detail will be at your location in the next five to ten minutes, FBI are also on their way, they'll need to debrief you."

"Of course."

"I'll speak to you soon. Goodbye."

He didn't wait for a response from Matt before he hung up. Matt turned back to the window, looking through that glass pane again. "Keep the door secure," he instructed Seth.

"Of course." Seth's hand came up and rested on Matt's shoulder. "You alright, Boss?"

His lips pulled into a thin line. "In this job, sometimes you just have to be." He turned and entered resus. To be heard over the staff, his voice was loud but steady. "I need an update on the Secretary's condition."

The man standing at the head of the bed, surveying the proceedings and giving out instructions glanced at him. "Critical. We're preparing a theatre and will move in the next few minutes. We've intubated, her airway was becoming compromised, we have an open pneumothorax, we've applied an occlusive dressing while we prepare a chest drain and we're bagging while we get the portable ventilator ready. She's in hypovolemic shock and we probably have a mass of internal bleeding, so once those two things are done, then we need to get to theatre." He looked towards another staff member. "How's her access?"

"Venous access in both arms, it should hold but if we're wanting to push fluids then I'd prefer a central line, femoral line would do as well."

Ok, let's get a central line in, request an urgent portable chest x-ray." He looked over at Matt again. "Was she moving her arms and legs following the shooting?"

"Yes."

"Good, means bullet has likely missed the spinal cord, but lets continue to follow spinal protocol until we're sure."

Matt stepped back against the wall again as the attention turned away from him. His experience had taught him what caused the unthinkable to happen, what it hadn't taught him was how it felt when it happened on your watch.

* * *

Henry twirled his pen around his fingers as he looked down at his phone and back up at the clock, the guilt setting in about missing this time with Elizabeth. They didn't get much quality time together and they liked to make the most of the time that did get, and he had failed on that score today. Tapping his pen against his desk, he gave a sigh, he had been preoccupied this morning as well, caught up thinking about getting Ian through this initiation; and he knew he'd worried her.

He scrubbed his hand across his jaw, he should have just told her what he was thinking about, he could on this one, there were no barriers. It had just been that she had been stressing about the whole Madam Sexytary debacle and he had held back slightly, waiting until she was slightly less frazzled about that. He might have waited too long, she was worried now. He would need to fix that. His mission tonight would run far too late for him to do anything, but he'd make her breakfast in bed tomorrow, they could talk then.

His classroom door flew open, rattling against the wall as DS agents stormed into the room. "Dr McCord we need to leave."

Henry got to his feet. "What? Why?" They flanked him, propelling him forward. He recognised one as an agent who was occasionally on Elizabeth's detail. "Pete, what is this? What's happening." Neither man answered, rushing him forward to the emergency exit, he could see the car on the other side of the door. They had him bundled into the back of the car in less than a minute. Henry couldn't get used to that, felt his head spin at the direction his afternoon had taken.

Pete slid into the back seat across from him, talking into his radio, "Dr McCord is secure."

Leaning back against the seat, Henry held his hands outward as he asked again, "Want to tell me what this is about?"

Pete rubbed at the side of his neck. "Dr McCord, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but there has been an incident, a shooting to be more precise. The Secretary has been injured, she's been taken to George Washington Hospital."

Henry's immediate reaction was to laugh, because what they were telling him just wasn't possible. "No, no," he told him simply. "I spoke to Elizabeth about ten, fifteen minutes ago, she was at the park."

"Which is where the shooting occurred."

"I don't…" He shook his head, his brain felt as though it was short circuiting as it tried to process what he was being told. "No, she couldn't have been shot. At the park?" His eyes met Pete's. "No."

Pete's expression was grave. "Dr McCord, at this moment we don't know if this was an isolated attack or something bigger. Your children are being secured as we speak, and the decision has been made to take them to POTUS's residence. Now currently we're taking you to George Washington, but we can switch to the Whitehouse first, if you'd prefer."

Henry felt sick to his stomach, he had spoken to Elizabeth, she had been fine. How could this have happened? "Do…do the kids know?"

"No. We expect the media to have the story soon though, so we'll ask the children to hand over their devices. Try and keep the news from them until you can let us know how you want us to break the news."

"Elizabeth, how is she?"

"I don't know much about the details of her injury, but we have received word that she is critical. I'm sorry."

"Critical?" Henry echoed. He shook his head again. "No, no. I spoke to her. This is a mistake."

"It's not a mistake. Dr McCord, I'm sorry to push you but we need to know if you want us to change route and take you to the Whitehouse."

"No. Take me to the hospital." This would be sorted out when he saw Elizabeth. This wasn't happening, there had been some sort of mistake. Elizabeth had been at their park, he'd spoken to her, she couldn't have been shot.

The rest of the journey was carried out in silence, the occasional crackle of Pete's radio, the pronouncement that their children had been secured were the only things that broke through it as they sped through the streets of DC. Finally, the car stopped.

Henry didn't wait for the door to open, throwing himself out of the vehicle. Pete was right beside him, another agent taking his other side, they huddled him in through an emergency side door, into a long corridor. He frowned as he noticed the drops of partially dried blood on the floor. "Where are we?"

"This corridor is the emergency exit from the ER's resus room, it's more private than taking you in through the main entrance. The Secretary would have been brought through here as per protocol."

Henry began to feel his hopes slip that this had all been some form of mistake. He saw Matt and Seth up ahead, through the clear pane of the door, they were turned away from him, talking to one another. His stomach lurched, why weren't they in with Elizabeth?

As they stepped through the door, both men turned, and Henry faltered, blinking rapidly as he took them in. They were both splattered with blood, Seth less so, the dark patches on his suit weren't quite as obvious, a slash of reddish brown only slightly evident on the visible part of his white shirt. But it was Matt who looked as though he'd been auditioning for the role of Carrie. His suit and shirt were soaked. His hands were clean, but as they drew closer Henry could see that around his nails remained stained and he could see the faint stain at his neck. "Is that Elizabeth's?" He asked, his voice hoarse, afraid of the answer.

"It is," Matt confirmed.

His eyes ran over them both again. "All of it?" As they nodded, he felt his knees buckle, he caught himself, at least he thought he caught himself, he might have been steadied by the two agents at his side. "Why aren't you in with her?"

"Another team has taken over, we're about to debrief with our head of service and the FBI, it's protocol," Matt assured him.

"Right." Henry nodded. "Right." He pressed his hands to his mouth. "I don't understand. I spoke to her and she was fine. What happened?"

It was Matt who answered him, "After speaking to you, the Secretary continued on her walk. She was separated, briefly, from us by a crowd of runners, a minute or so later. The shooter approached her from the opposite direction before we could secure her and fired."

"What do we know about the shooter?"

"Not much, he was secured at the scene and we have handed him to the FBI."

"And Elizabeth. I want to see her."

"Of course, I'll ask if you can see her before they take her up to theatre."

Pete's hand came out to rest on Matt's arm. "I'll ask, you should both go." Matt's face hardened for a moment and Pete's voice softened. "It's just protocol," he whispered. There was moment and Matt nodded, letting Pete step past him.

Matt turned to Henry, his features taut. "I want to apologize to you, I failed in my duty to protect the Secretary and I will never forgive myself. I am so sorry."

Henry wanted to tell him that he didn't blame him, that he blamed the lunatic who pulled a gun on his wife, but all of it felt too surreal. Matt turned to leave, and Henry turned, asking suddenly, "Elizabeth, did she say anything? Afterwards?"

"Only one thing, your name. She asked for you, Dr McCord."

Henry nodded. He should have been there, he was meant to have been there and maybe if he had been… He was pulled from his thoughts by the door swinging open, Pete telling him, "You can go in Dr McCord."

The room was busy, staff surrounding the bed in the middle of the room, blocking his view. His gaze was caught by a variety of plastic bags in the corner. One was just white material, stained rust and it took him a few seconds to realise that it had been a blouse. The bag next to it was what brought his stomach to his throat, Elizabeth's heels. They'd been at the foot of the bed this morning when he'd gotten up, he'd tripped over them, had bit back a curse in order not to wake her up. In that moment he realised that this was real. That he was going to see Elizabeth on that bed.

A nurse looked up. "Dr McCord, you can come up."

He stepped closer, and his breath caught at the sight of her. She was flat on her back, a hospital gown covering her. Blood stained down her arms and hands, up her neck and there were splotches on face. There was a tube at her mouth, attached to a hissing ventilator. "Elizabeth?" He took another step until he was at the side of the bed. His hand slipped into hers. Her eyes were closed, and she didn't respond, he wasn't sure why he had even thought she might. His free hand drifted to her hair, smoothing a thick strand of her hair off her forehead. "I'm here," he told her.

There was a mild cough from the head of the bed, and he looked up to the man in scrubs standing at the top of the bed. He looked apologetic as he told him, "I wish we could give you longer, but we need to get the Secretary to theatre. Anaesthetics will accompany her, I can talk you through what's happened."

"Ok." Henry nodded. Looking down at his wife again, he leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "I'll be here when you come out. I promise you."

He stepped back, saw the staff kick off the brakes on the bed as they moved for the door. The new agents followed them. He looked around the room again, realised that blood was smeared across the floor, splattered on instruments that sat on small, steel trolley's to the side and his stomach lurched again. The doctor who had spoken to him before addressed him again, holding out his hand. "Dr McCord, I'm Dr Mitchell, lead attending within the ER. I oversaw the Secretary's care whilst she was in our department. There's a room out in the corridor to our left, we can talk in there."

Henry followed him in, aware that his two agents trailed him, stopping at the door. Dr Mitchell gestured for Henry to sit, waiting till he did, before he sat down across from him, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. Not waiting for him to speak, Henry rushed in, his words tumbling out, "My wife, how is she, really?"

"Can I just check what you know so far?"

"Nothing." Henry gave an almost bitter, humourless laugh. "I know nothing, they just kept telling me that she was shot but that's it. That's all they've told me."

"Ok." He gave a short nod. "The Secretary-"

"Elizabeth," Henry cut in unthinkingly. He looked up at the man's slightly taken aback expression and added, "I'd just prefer if we used her name, not her job title"

He gave a nod of acknowledgement, "Of course, I apologise. Elizabeth arrived at our department following a gunshot wound to her chest. She was unconscious on arrival, had lost a lot of blood and suffered severe chest trauma. It was imperative that we stabilised her for surgery, so her time in my department has been minimal. What we know so far is that the bullet is lodged in her chest cavity and has pierced her right lung, potentially also damaging the right side of her heart. Just before you arrived, we carried out a portable chest x-ray which shows the bullet has lodged itself at a rib on her left side, so there may potentially be some damage to that lung as well. We are fairly confident that the bullet missed her spinal cord, but we will confirm that with a CT scan following surgery."

"Oh God." Henry slumped back in his chair, trying to take in everything that he'd been told, "But she'll come through this?"

Dr Mitchell's lips thinned momentarily, "Her condition is critical, due to the severity of the trauma to her right lung and heart we had to take her straight for surgery, it was her only chance. But it means we are working somewhat blind, we don't know the extent of the damage caused by the bullet and the surgeons won't know this until they start working. Which unfortunately means that we are unable to give any assurances at this time. It will depend on what they find. I'm sorry, Dr McCord."

"How long will the surgery take?"

"It's difficult to say, based on the known damage then it's likely to last the next three or four hours, potentially longer. We have a bed in our intensive care unit for when she comes out of surgery. They have a room, which is more pleasant than this one for you to wait, if you'd like."

"I uh…I don't know. Our kids…they don't know yet and I…" He tailed off, his face sinking into his hands as everything he'd just been told started to hit home, as the stillness of her figure began to imprint itself on her brain. He could lose her, his wife, his Elizabeth and he couldn't think of his life without her.

The doctor nodded. "I will inform your detail that's where you can wait if you wish to. They can let us know. You are of course welcome to see your children and then come back. The room will remain available to you."

"Thank you." Henry was only vaguely aware of him leaving, heard the soft thud of the door closing, leaving him listening to the ticking of a clock. Less than an hour ago his life had been what it should be, now he wasn't sure he even knew which way was up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far :)**

 **I've tried to keep the timeline as linear as possible.**

* * *

President Conrad Dalton didn't even glance up from his report as the door to his office flew open without warning. There was only one person who would have the gall to stomp in and out of his office, acting as though it were his own personal revolving door. He checked his watch. "You managed to stay out of here for about half an hour, that might be a new record." He looked up, expecting to either see the smallest of smirks or a look of annoyed harassment on his chief of staff's face, instead he saw an expression that he had never seen before and didn't much want to see again. Whilst a member of his security detail slid past him to stand at the door. "What is it?"

Russell rubbed the back of his neck. "Sir, it's…ah hell this is difficult…" He glanced up to the ceiling, exhaling deeply before letting the words tumble out, "It's Elizabeth, she's been shot."

"Bess?" Conrad heard himself clarify needlessly. After all there was no other Elizabeth that Russell would ever rush into his office to discuss.

"Yes, Sir."

Conrad let out a sharp breath. "Where?"

"Lincoln Park," Russell admitted tightly.

"How is she?"

"No word yet, all we know is she has been hit. I've just had the head of the secret service on the phone, FBI are on their way to the scene, Elizabeth has been taken to George Washington. They're not sure if this was an isolated incident yet, hence…" He tailed off and waved his hand towards the agent who was now in the corner, staring resolutely ahead.

"I want real time updates on her condition."

"I've made that clear already." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Her family is being secured. Unless instructed otherwise, they'll take Dr McCord straight to the hospital but there was a question over where best to send the children." He paused again, one fingernail scratching absentmindedly at his jawline. "I made a suggestion which I hope doesn't cross any lines."

"I don't think that's something you've ever worried about before," Conrad remarked dryly.

"First time for everything."

"So, what did you suggest?"

"Given that Stephanie McCord is already here, and that it won't be long until the media gets wind of this, I felt here would be the safest place for them at this time. Obviously, I didn't want to worry them by sticking them into the bunker, so I suggested taking them to the residence. The agents will confiscate their phones, try and keep them away from news sources until we know more, until Henry can speak to them."

Conrad gave a nod. "That seems the most prudent course of action. I'll let Lydia know, she can…keep an eye out." He leaned back in his chair. "The shooter, do we have them?"

"Yes. Alive as it happens. But other than that we don't have enough details yet to put together a picture of what's happened. There's also another issue I'd like to discuss-" Russell was cut off by the insistent ring of his mobile. His mobile already in his hand, he answered swiftly. "I take it you have an update." He turned slightly, so he was no longer facing the President, going silent for a few moments. "Right. I want real time updates. I want to know how the hell this happened," he hissed, agitatedly pushing his suit jacket to his hip as he spoke. "And I want to be clear on this, if the media knows something before I do, then it'll be your head that I'll come looking for on a platter."

That Russell's tone remained, relatively, calm throughout that conversation, not something that made Conrad feel any better about the entire situation. When Russell was calm it normally meant that there was something to panic about, because his ranting and railing against whatever had annoyed him hadn't or wouldn't work, so he was conserving his energy. His stomach sank when he saw Russell hang up and hesitate before he finally swung back around. "Bess?"

"Yeah. Turns out that she was separated from her detail. Shooter walked right up to her in broad daylight and fired. Sir, she's critical. Hit close range to the chest." He gave a harsh, mirthless laugh, "We're meant to have the best secret service in the world and yet somehow, _somehow,_ a lunatic with a gun strolled up to the Secretary of State, in a public park and damn well nearly blasted her to Kingdom come!" He saw Conrad's face blanch at his words and dipped his face, looking at the floor as he took a deep intake of breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." He rubbed his forehead. "I just…how did this happen?"

Conrad's jaw tensed. "We'll find out." He met Russell's gaze. "Does Henry know yet?"

"He does. He's en-route to the hospital now."

"Any updates on the shooter?"

"FBI has him. He dropped the gun after firing, disarmed himself before the security had any reason to fire and didn't resist arrest. We should have more information on him before long, including a confirmed identification swiftly followed by finding out if this was an opportunistic hit or part of a larger, planned attack." He shook his head. "What a world."

"It's something." Conrad remarked. "But Bess, she's tough…" When Russell glanced away from him, he tailed off, knowing that he was clutching at straws and that for once Russell didn't want to be the one to break that news. There was a beat of silence before another thought occurred to him and he asked, "You had something else you wanted to discuss with me."

"What?" Russell looked up, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. "Oh, yeah. It was about Stephanie McCord."

"What about her. She's already here, isn't she?"

"She is and is currently in my office alphabetising some files for me. It's just that realistically this news isn't going to stay quiet for much longer. This took place in a public area and you can guarantee someone has a picture or a video that they'll be posting on instabook as we speak or haggling the rights for with some media outlet. There's word of mouth to contend with as well, this building is about to turn into a very big game of Chinese whispers. Henry might not be here for a while yet, it's easier to keep the younger two out of the loop, but she's in the middle of it." He gestured wildly with his hands. "Do we really want her to find out some twisted, embellished version of this from some random staffer with a big mouth?"

"Henry might want to break this news himself."

"You really think he's going to want to sit in front of his children and tell them that their mother might die?" Russell asked quietly. "I think more than anything else, he won't want them hearing a mis-truth from some stranger who either wants a kick out of their reaction or some speck of gossip to mindlessly pass on."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Conrad admitted heavily. He leaned back in his chair. "Do what you think is best."

Russell gave a short nod, the words would sound like a cop out to some, but he knew the man well enough to know what that really meant; it was his blessing.

As he turned to leave, Conrad's voice stopped him. "Bess' staff, they should be made aware."

"I'll phone Nadine Tolliver. Ask them to prepare a statement to the press, simply a confirmation to begin with, we'll take it as it comes with this."

"Good, thank you Russell."

* * *

Stevie whistled tunelessly as she sorted through more of the files that Russell had pointed her to that morning. She hated filing, thankfully this job didn't entail much, but on this occasion, she was willing to do it without complaint. The challenges of every other day more than made up for this mundane task. Glancing to the side, a frown flickered across her features as she saw Abby hanging around nervously next to the door. "Everything ok?" she asked.

The older woman jumped, a strained smile curving her mouth. "Of course, just waiting for Russell to reappear."

Stevie gestured at the paper covered floor, joking, "Are you worried he's going to murder me when he sees this sea of paper?"

Abby's mouth opened and moved wordlessly for a few seconds before she cleared her throat awkwardly and closed it over again. Finally she shook her head, her voice hoarse as she ground out, "No, he probably won't even notice."

"He notices everything, and he'll definitely notice this," Stevie remarked dryly.

Giving a hurried nod, she saw Abby wave her hand in a strange, nervous gesture before she stepped out of the doorway. Stevie watched her go and then leaned back on her heels, noticing that she didn't go back to her desk, instead hanging in the doorway of her office, scanning the corridor anxiously. "Weird," Stevie murmured, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

A few more minutes past and she heard Russell muttering from the outer office. She frowned again. Russell didn't tend to mutter.

Looking up, she saw him appear in the doorway, his face even grimmer than usual, whilst a secret service agent stood behind him. They both stepped into the room, and the door swung shut behind them. Stevie felt her heart start to race, her stomach clenching and a sickly feeling grab at her throat. "Am I being fired?" She asked quietly.

He shook his head. "No." He gave a sigh and gestured at the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat Stevie."

She looked down at where she was crouched on the floor. "But I'm already sitting," she pointed out, then winced at the stupidity of her words.

For once, Russell didn't comment on them. "Sit down in a comfortable chair," he told her instead.

"Ok." Stevie got to her feet, watching the agent in the corner as she moved, lowering herself slowly into the chair. Her eyes followed Russell across the room as he pulled his own chair from out behind the desk, drawing it out until it was across from hers, without the barrier of the desk between them. Stevie heard him sigh and if anything, she felt even worse than she did a few minutes ago. "What's going on?" she asked, somehow managing to keep her voice calm, steady.

"You know, there's always a lot of talk in politics and most of it's nonsense, either made up or exaggerated. If you don't hear it straight from the source then chances are it's not what happened, not really, but no matter what, the one thing you can guarantee is that it'll spread like wildfire."

"Have I done something?"

"No, you haven't. My point is that I have something you need to hear and you're owed the truth and not some half baked story." He sighed again, rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. "I want you to know that, and also that I really wish it wasn't me who had to tell you this, but in order to avoid that half baked story, here we are."

"Ok..."

"Stevie…there's been an incident involving your Mom. We don't know all the details yet, hell we barely know any of the details yet, but what we do know is that during a walk in Lincoln Park she was shot and injured. She's been taken to hospital and your Dad is on his way there. What we don't know is pretty much everything else," he admitted. "Including whether this is potentially a wider attack against high ranking members or state, a targeted aim at your family or the work of a singular opportunist. So, given that, your younger siblings are going to be brought here by the service for their own protection and you'll all have an agent with you until we are certain that there isn't any further threat toward any of you."

Stevie frowned, trying to make sense of what Russell had told her, because none of it seemed real, she felt as though she had disappeared down the rabbit hole. She stared at a scuff on the toe of her shoe. "Do Alison and Jason know?" she asked finally.

"No. We'll work to protect them from this until your Dad decides what he wants to do next. But you, you're an adult, who works in the Whitehouse, I can't protect you from hearing about this. So, I wanted it to be the truth."

"I appreciate that." Stevie swallowed heavily, felt her eyes begin to water as she looked back at Russell, her voice quiet, cracking at the end as she asked, "Is my Mom going to be ok?"

Russell's hand reached out and rested over hers. "I don't know," he admitted.

Stevie felt a tear start to trickle down her cheek and she swiped it away with the edge of her sleeve. "You said my Dad was on the way to the hospital with her, was he not with her?"

"No, from what I understand he was at work."

Stevie's frown deepened. "But they always go there together."

Russell drew his hand away from hers. "As I said, we're only just starting to piece everything together, but he was at the War College, that much I'm sure on." He sat back and watched her. "Your brother and sister should be at the residence soon. I can take you up there."

Giving a quiet sniff, Stevie shook her head, "No, I can't. I can't sit with them and know that…that…what you've just told me and keep quiet about it."

"I understand." He got awkwardly to his feet, feeling his knees creak as he went. "You're welcome to stay in here, or I can find you another, more comfortable room if you'd prefer."

"I'd rather stay here, I don't really like the idea of going out there right now." She thought of all those eyes on her, of the whispers and she simply couldn't face it.

"At the moment, this is still contained, if that makes a difference."

"Not really, I don't think I'll feel comfortable anywhere." She looked down at the papers spread out across the carpet. "If it's ok with you, I'd like to just get on with work."

"You don't have to…" Russell tailed off and then gave a small nod. He knew that he would want something to focus on if he were in her shoes. "Alright. I'll let you get to it then. Abby is just outside, if you need me then you just need to let her know."

Stevie watched Russell leave, she slowly lowered herself down to the floor, picking up another sheaf of papers, she stared at them blankly. She could feel the agent's eyes in her back. She wanted to cry, but she didn't, it all felt so surreal and she didn't want to face any of it just yet, and so she went back to filing.

* * *

Henry felt as though his feet were filled with lead as was escorted down the corridor of the Whitehouse by his security detail. He had sat in that waiting room for all of five minutes before realising that as much as he didn't want to leave the hospital, to leave knowing that Elizabeth's life hung in the balance, he had no choice. He was no fool, he knew there was a limited time until what had happened hit the news and their children didn't deserve to hear about it in that way. She wouldn't want that for them and neither did he. So, he had dragged himself up and announced that he wanted to be taken to his kids.

The car journey had been arduous, because all he could think of was how the hell he was meant to explain this to them. By the time he arrived, there was nothing that he wanted to do less than to say any of these words aloud.

The corridor was busy, some of the staff glancing in his direction, the odd pitying glance being thrown at him. Nobody approached him, which meant that the news of Elizabeth wasn't yet public knowledge.

Russell appeared from nowhere, he was far too good at that. He inclined his head towards a small room behind him. "A quick word."

Henry felt a brief urge to bite back that he wasn't in the mood for following instructions, then he realised that Russell might in fact hold some information on why this had happened. And so, he slipped in after him. "Tell me you know something about this."

"No more than you do." He leaned against the closed door. "I'd ask how you are but…it seems redundant. Did you see Elizabeth?"

"I did. Spoke to the doctor who treated her in the ER."

"And?"

"And…" He shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples, applying pressure to the growing pain there. "And how do you think it is? She was shot Russell."

"Henry, I don't pretend to know how you're feeling about now-"

"Good. Because I don't understand how this happened. She was meant to be safe."

"We'll find out what happened."

Henry continued as though Russell hadn't spoken. "You know I laughed when they told me. I'd spoken to her just before it, minutes before in fact. I thought that there was no way that things could have changed so quickly, that someone had made a mistake." He waved one hand. "That I would get there, and everything would be sorted out."

"Henry-"

"And then I get there and it's true. I'm looking at my wife, covered in blood, in fact everywhere I look is covered in her blood, there's a tube down her throat and a doctor telling me they don't know if she's going to come through this. How do I tell my kids that?"

Russell shifted uncomfortably, he had never been good at comforting the grief stricken, it was one of the many reasons he liked the fact his job was behind the scenes. "Well I already told Stevie," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head, waiting an explosion of anger from Henry McCord. He'd never seen the man wound so tight.

That explosion didn't come, he looked almost confused as he finally looked at Russell. "You told Stevie."

"I did. Didn't want her finding out from some big mouthed staffer. She's in my office, thought you might want to see her first." He scratched at the bridge of his nose. "As for Elizabeth, nothing I say is going to make this better, but I meant when I said we'll do whatever it takes to bring the son of a bitch to justice. Come on," he gestured towards the door. "Waiting isn't going to make this any easier for you."

* * *

"Christ, this is a mess," Dr Charles Reynolds whistled. "Can't see a damn thing, he held his hand outstretched, fingers waving. "I need suction."

"Blood pressure's falling."

He sucked a breath in between his teeth. "Push more blood and fluids."

"We've got fluids going as quickly as we can," his registrar informed him.

"You need to find the bleed fast, heart rate's at thirty and falling," the anaesthetist called from the top of the table.

Charles frowned into the blood-filled chest cavity. "I need more suction." A nurse jumped in with another catheter and he let out a whistle when he finally found what he was looking for. "Cardiac tamponade, along with a roughly three-centimetre tear to the right ventricle and some damage to left ventricular apex. Get bypass ready."

The monitor at the top of the bed, gave a series of sharp beeps. "She's in VF."

"Ok, have the defib ready, I need to drain this blood or we'll never get her heart restarted. Scalpel, keep that suction steady." He moved quickly, his hands steady even as he felt the prickle of sweat start to bead across his forehead. "Pericardium's drained," he announced a few beats later. "Charge to one eighty. Everyone clear...charging."

The thud of the machine echoed through the room. "Asystole."

Charles muttered a round of profanity under his breath. "Commencing cardiac massage." His hand enclosed around Elizabeth's still heart, starting to count out the compressions. He paused at thirty, looking up at his anaesthetist. "Rhythm check," he requested, his voice calm, contained, everything he currently didn't feel.

"Aystole."

"Going again. We are not letting the Secretary of State die on this table." He completed another cycle, the rest of the staff eerily quiet.

"VF," he was told at the end of the round.

"Right, ok. Charge to two-twenty. Everyone clear...charging,"

* * *

It was Jason who saw Henry and Stevie first as they walked into the residence. The teen jumped to his feet, fired up with righteous indignation. "Dad! They took my phone." He waved a hand wildly, eyes flashing. "Kept going on about security, as if my rights don't matter-"

"Jason, will you shut up!" Stevie snapped, her hand pressing against her mouth as she started to cry.

Alison took a small step forward, her eyes swivelling between her sister's blotched face, realising this wasn't the first time she'd cried recently, and her Dad's pained expression. "What is it? What's happened."

Her Dad's arms slid over her and Jason's shoulder. "You need to sit down for this," he told them, his voice shaky as he led them to the sofa.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter's timeline overlaps slightly with the chapter before.**

 **Sorry for the long wait in-between updates, back at work now so I don't have as much free time to write.**

 **Thank you for all the reviews, hope you all enjoy this update.**

* * *

Nadine Tolliver felt the oddest sense of deja-vu drift over her as she listened to the voice of Russell Jackson's P.A. on the other end of her office phone. Her slim, white fingers tightened their grip on the receiver, and she felt her stomach flutter and roll as she uttered the exact same words she had said the last time this she had taken a call like this. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"The Secretary of State has been shot."

"Yes, I thought that's what you said." Nadine sagged boneless into her chair. Last time she had been at home, in her own little bubble as the shock and grief had crashed over her. This time, in her office, it felt even more surreal. The fluorescent lighting, that she had never liked but had never had cause to pay any great amount of attention to before, now made her retinas itch. She could hear the voices of staff in the corridor, the laughter and chatter continuing as though nothing had changed. "Where?" she finally asked, her voice sounding strangled to her own ears.

"Lincoln Park."

"And is she alright?" Nadine squeezed her eyes shut at the banality of that question. The woman had been shot, there was nothing _alright_ about it. "I mean, is it serious?"

The hesitation before Abby answered meant that Nadine knew the state of affairs before it was confirmed to her. "She's critical," came the quiet reply. "Russell has asked that your press officer prepare a short statement for the press. To be delivered once the story hits the media."

"What kind of statement? We don't know anything."

"He just said confirm the shooting but past that, keep it vague, including the severity of her condition, for now at least. We'll update you as we get more information."

"Very well." Nadine knew it wasn't worth bickering and nitpicking about the unhelpful advice regarding the press statement. "What about Dr McCord, was he injured?"

"He wasn't with her. He's on his way to the hospital just now."

Nadine frowned, Elizabeth had been clear that she was meeting her husband for lunch. Poor man must have been running late, what dreadful timing. "Is there anything else we need to be aware of?" she finally asked.

"Just that the McCord children have been secured. We don't know whether this is part of a wider attack, so all security precautions have commenced. We'll make sure that you're updated with any changes."

"Thank you." Nadine's hand shook as she placed the phone back down. She blinked a couple of times in an effort to clear her head, before looking at the clock. Elizabeth had left just over thirty minutes ago, and now… Nadine chocked back a sob, pressing her hand against her mouth, her fingertips applying pressure to her cheekbones as she forced herself to pull it together. She had done this once, and much as she might not want to, she could and would do it again. Her spine straightened and she grabbed her mobile as she made her way back to the others in the conference room.

The door was ajar and she could hear them debating inside, could smell the Thai food they had ordered for lunch, knew that the remains of hers would be congealing where she'd left it when she'd rushed out to take that call. Matt was speaking as she stepped into the room. "I'm just saying that maybe, maybe, we should have taken this opportunity to go out for lunch. I mean an enforced lunch at this desk is fine when we have no other option, but people, today, _today_ we had options."

Daisy's nose wrinkled and she waved her fork around aimlessly. "If we'd went out then we would just have spent all of our lunch break in some horrendous queue, plus you know there would have been no guarantee of a table."

Blake gave a small snort. "I did spend a lot of time in that queue, which I did without complaint so that we could have a decent lunch. Some gratitude would be nice."

"I am grateful. Just commenting that we should be making the most of our breaks when we get them." He glanced over to where Nadine was standing in the doorway and sighed, putting down his lunch, adding, "You're about to tell us that our lunch is over, aren't you?"

It was Jay who noticed the expression on Nadine's face, along with the way she rested her hand against the door frame, as if to steady herself. "What's happened?"

Nadine focused on a spot on the back wall, unable to look at anyone's face as she told them all, "The Secretary has been shot."

* * *

Jason felt oddly calm as he stared at his Dad, his head tilting as he took onboard what he was being told. He heard Alison start to sniffle next to him, watched as Stevie pulled her into a hug. He looked down at his hands and belatedly realised that his fingers had curled into fists, the nails biting into his palms. Funny, he could see the marks left by his them, but he hadn't felt anything.

"You alright there, Jase?"

His head jerked up. "Yeah. Yeah of course," he answered unthinkingly.

"Ok." His Dad sounded as though he didn't quite believe him but he didn't push it, instead looking between the three of them, his features strained, his jaw tense. He didn't look like himself, Jason thought. He'd heard that phrase before, but had never really understood it until now.

Silence stretched out between them all until Alison's voice, quiet and unsure broke through it, "But Mom's going to be ok, isn't she Dad?"

Jason cut in before he could answer. "He can't tell us that."

"You don't know that."

His temper flared. "You think they would stick us in a fancy room in the Whitehouse, take our phones from us and ban us from the TV if she was going to be fine?"

"They've moved us to secure areas before and everything has ended up being ok," Alison shot back at him.

"Nowhere as nice as this, they probably want us to think well of them when they eventually drop the news that she's dead."

"Jason, that's enough!" Henry's voice cut through Alison and Stevie's horrified squeal. He shook his head. "Noodle, I don't know what's going to happen, but your Mum is under the care of some of the best surgeons in DC-"

Jason jumped to his feet, unable to listen to this for any longer. "Yeah, whatever." He took a few steps and then paused, realising that he wasn't even sure where he could storm off to. Glancing around the room he made a noise of disgust and then stomped off in what he was pretty sure was the direction of the kitchen.

"Just give me a minute," Henry told his daughters, his hand briefly resting on Stevie's shoulder as he got up and followed his son into his self-imposed exile. He found him lounging against a counter, his arms crossed across himself as he glowered at the floor. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

Jason didn't even look at him. "How can I believe anything we're told?" He kicked his foot once, twice against the front of a cupboard. "Governments make things look like what they need them to. Look at the way they kept us in the dark, probably so they had time to hide evidence."

Henry gave a sigh of annoyance. "Jason, I'm not in the mood to discuss conspiracy theories with you right now. You've really upset your sisters."

"Yeah, _I've_ upset them." He rolled his eyes and kicked the cupboard again, this time leaving a dark mark against the white wood.

Reaching out, Henry placed his hand on his forearm. "Stop that," he told him firmly, the noise was echoing in his ears and he could feel his anger growing.

"Worried I'm going to cause damage to state property? Because they weren't as bothered about damaging our family, were they?"

Henry felt a sudden wave of understanding wash over him. Jason needed someone to rage against, and in the absence of a name, of a known person to direct his anger towards, then a faceless organisation would do the trick. "Jase, we don't know why this happened yet."

"Yeah, we do, it's because of her job, of course it is. She wouldn't have been targeted if she was still working at UVA, would she?"

His lips thinned as he admitted, "No, probably not. But I'm not lying to you when I say that the doctors are going to do everything the can. Your Mom isn't dead, I'm not lying to you."

Jason looked up at him, his bottom lip wavering. "You said you were at the hospital; did you see her?"

"I did," Henry confirmed.

His eyes growing wet with tears, Jason asked, "Did she say anything?"

"No, she was unconscious when I got there," he replied on a deep sigh, the confession feeling as though it were torn from him. His hand squeezed Jason's shoulder. "But I promise that I'll answer any of your questions honestly, I won't hide anything from you. I promise."

Jason gave a sniff. "She tried to hug me this morning, and I was so annoyed about that stupid calculator… that I…that I…" He sniffed again, looking away from his Dad and back at the floor. "I dodged out of the way, and I ignored her when she tried to say goodbye. What if that's the last time I speak to her? Or see her?"

Henry pulled his son into a tight hug, feeling his tears start to seep through the material of the shoulder of his shirt. "You need to stop being angry with yourself about this."

"How?"

For a moment, Henry paused, not sure how best to answer that; because he was angry with himself. He had lost track of time, he'd left his wife standing there; perhaps if he'd been there…Catching himself, he remembered now wasn't the time for this. "Because she isn't angry with you," he told him.

"How do you know that?"

"I know your Mom," Henry replied simply. "And when I spoke to her this morning, after you left, she wasn't annoyed with you."

Jason stepped back from the hug, closed fists swiping away his tears. "How do I know you're not just saying that?" He mumbled.

"Ethics professor," Henry managed to quip. "You know I'll always tell you the truth, even if it's something you don't want to hear."

A small, short laugh escaped him. "I suppose that's true."

Henry wrapped his arm around Jason's shoulder. "Come on, we should go back through."

"I'll…I'll apologise to Allison."

"Good," Henry replied simply, proud of his son for not needing prompting on this. He led Jason back through, to where his girls were sitting, curled against one another.

As Alison looked up, Jason stepped forward. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I shouldn't have said that, I-"

"It's ok," she replied softly. "You were upset."

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. "But that's not an excuse."

"It is, but just for this once." Alison held out an arm, gesturing her brother over and Jason went willingly, joining the group hug with his sisters.

Henry felt a blast of pride for his children. He and Elizabeth had raised them well, had taught them to stick together in tough situations. At the thought of his wife, he cleared his throat, waiting until the three looked back up at him. "I'm going to go back to the hospital," he told them all.

Stevie gave a decisive nod as she told him firmly, "I'm coming with you."

"Me too," piped up Alison.

"Me three," Jason followed swiftly.

"It's going to be a while before we get any news," Henry reminded them. "If you'd rather you can stay here until we have the clear to go back to the house. I promise to let you all know the second that there's any news."

"I'm not going home until I know what's going to happen with Mom," Jason asserted, his jaw jutting stubbornly, his eyes flashing.

"Stevie and I feel the same Dad, if we're going to wait, then we should all wait together."

Henry looked between his three children and he had to remind himself that they were growing up and that as much as he wanted to, he couldn't protect them from this. At least this way he would be with them and near Elizabeth. "Ok, I'll arrange a car and we can get going."

He had only taken a few steps when a harried Russell appeared in the archway leading into the room. He glanced at the children before turning to Henry. "Can I have a minute?"

Henry looked back at his children, saw the way Stevie edged forward, the look of fear on Alison's face and remembered his promise to Jason. "Whatever it is, you can tell me now."

"Alright." Russell gave a deep sigh before announcing, "The media knows, it's over every outlet." He paused, looking supremely uncomfortable as he added, "Henry, there's a video."

* * *

Daisy felt her hands shake as she stared at the blank document on her laptop screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She finally lowered them to type and then stopped, deleting the words as quickly as she had put them down. "I don't know what to write," she admitted Jay after a moment.

Jay had been leaning against her wall, staring aimlessly into space, her words caused him to jerk slightly as he came back to reality, looking over at her in mild surprise, as though he'd forgotten she was there. "What?"

"I don't know what to write for this statement," she told him again. "Keep it vague. That should be easy, since we don't actually know anything, but it isn't." She chewed at her bottom lip for a moment before adding quietly, "I didn't think we'd have to do this again."

Jay rubbed at his temples. "No. I mean, what are the chances?" He shook his head, glancing out of the glass partition wall into the office. Nobody else knew yet, just them, so everyone else was rushing around as though it were business as usual.

"How long until you think they tell us how she is?"

"Don't know." Jay shook his head. "But if they haven't told us much by now then it can't be good."

"Do…do you think that she's…that she's-"

"No," Jay interrupted firmly. "They would have told us that." A frown crossed his features. "At least I think they would."

"Yeah…I mean we knew quite quickly with Secretary Marsh."

The door flew open and Matt rushed in, his laptop open and tucked under his arm. "Turn on the TV." He gestured to the one fixed in the high corner of the room. When they didn't react, he waved his hands in a hurried motion. "Guys, now, TV."

Daisy reached for the remote and clicked it on with a sigh. It was set to the twenty-four-hour news, the channel they always ended up needing to turn to.

" _Breaking news, we have unconfirmed reports that Secretary of State, Elizabeth McCord has been shot. Initial information suggests that she has been taken to George Washington University hospital for treatment. The Whitehouse and the State department have yet to issue a statement."_

Daisy made a scoffing noise of disgust at the back of her throat as she turned off the TV. "Well, we knew they'd get hold of this at some point." Her head sunk into her hands. "I need to come up with a statement."

"That's only part of it," Matt added grimly. He pulled his laptop out from under his arm, beckoning Jay over as he showed them both the screen. "This was uploaded to youtube a few minutes ago."

The screen flipped to an initial grainy, blurred image that slowly came into focus, the camera, shaking slightly as they zoomed in. A male voice talked over the footage _._

" _I'm telling you that's the Secretary of State."_

" _You sure?"_

" _Definitely, look at the suits next to her."_

 _Elizabeth's form was clear as she moved out of the way of some runners, oblivious to the man in a dark grey hoodie and jeans approaching her, his face shaded by a baseball cap. His hand dug into waistband of his jeans. A glint of metal catching the light._

" _Do you think that looks like…"_

 _Elizabeth turned and, in that split second, he fired, his arm jerking backwards, the gun falling from his hand._

 _There was yelling, screaming and the last shot was her dropping to the ground as the phone jerked away from the scene._

Jay pressed the laptop shut. "Why would anyone upload that?" he murmured, shaking his head.

"I feel sick," Daisy announced. "That…Oh God. He just walked up to her!"

"I know," Matt replied. "I haven't told Nadine about it yet."

"Is she still in with Blake?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, she is, I looked in, but he still looked really upset and…well…I didn't think him seeing, or even knowing, about this would help."

"No, but she needs to know about this." Jay gestured at the screen. "Is that the only video?"

"So far."

Jay pressed his fingers heavily against his temple, glancing out into the main atrium, his frown deepening as he noticed small crowds starting to form around the computers and faces turning to look in their direction. "I think the secrets out. Whether we like it or not. Daisy, keep working on that statement. I'll go speak to Nadine."


	5. Chapter 5

**It's been a while, I know.**

 **Hope this is an enjoyable update :)**

* * *

"Back in sinus rhythm."

Charles Reynolds let out a rush of breath at the words, his own heart racing, a cold sweat prickling at his back. He gave a nod, watching as the heart beneath his hands finally began to beat again. "How long was she down?"

"Just under five minutes."

He swallowed heavily, murmuring, "Borderline."

"You got her back," his anaesthetist told him, her tone almost chiding, a reminder of how infrequently this would happen. "That in itself is impressive, the level of damage-"

Charles waved his hand, cutting his colleague off. "I know, but she's the goddamn Secretary of State."

"On this table she's just another broken heart we're trying to fix." She glanced back up at the monitor. Her nose wrinkled. "Christ, I didn't mean to sound that cheesy."

"It did sound quite after school special."

"Hmmm, it did. Don't worry it won't happen again." She glanced back at the monitor. "Heart rate's still low."

"Is Bypass ready?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I don't think we'll get her back if this happens again. Can we arrange an MRI of her brain alongside the one for her spine."

"I'll call down, add it to the request," one of the scrub nurses replied.

"Thank you." He gave a heavy sigh. "Right, let's hop to it people."

* * *

"There's a video."

Henry stared at Russell for a moment and then shook his head. "I don't want to see it," he told him, his voice harsh, abrasive to his own ears. "But what I do want to know is if it shows the bastard who shot my wife."

"The face isn't clear, whoever took it, they were filming Elizabeth."

"I want to know who did this, and if that video doesn't show that, then I don't want to hear anymore about it." He ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell is wrong with people," he muttered. "Putting this up for everyone to see."

"Technology means everyone thinks they can make a fast buck, have their moment in the limelight. I've already been in touch with the main news outlets, they won't broadcast it, for now at least-"

"For now?" Henry echoed dangerously.

Russell face tightened as the strain of the situation began to show. He gave a small shrug, his voice hoarse as he admitted, "I can't control the media, much as I sometimes wish I could, I called in as many favours as I could; this was the best I could do."

Henry dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his hands balling into fists as he fought to keep his cool. His children were watching, he couldn't lose his temper, not now. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting against the headache building in his temples. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, as Stevie's voice asked him softly, "Dad, are you ok?"

His eyes opened. "I'm fine." He patted her hand, managed a brief smile. "It's a lot to take in, for all of us." He took in a deep breath, tried to separate out his jumble of racing thoughts, when one finally jumped out at him. "Will," he muttered. "Someone needs to tell Will."

Russell's lips pursed as he racked his brain for the memory of who that was. "I'll need more details," he finally admitted grudgingly. "It's been a long day and my recall isn't what it normally is."

"Our Uncle," Stevie clarified for him. "Mum's brother."

Henry hauled his phone out of his pocket. "I'll need to tell him, before he sees it on the news."

"I can send someone," Russell offered.

Shaking his head, Henry replied, "I should tell him." His hand shook as he scrawled through his contacts, his stomach churning as he tried to think of the words he should use. He brought the phone to his ear, only for it to jump straight to voicemail. "He must have it turned off for work."

"I'll send someone across," Russell told him. "You just concentrate on what you need to do."

Seeing her Dad blink slowly as his phone, the tremor in his hand and way his eyes were beginning to water, Stevie stepped in. "We've decided to all go to the hospital, so we can all be there when Mom comes out of surgery. Would someone be able to arrange a car?"

"Of course, I'll see to it personally," Russell assured her.

At that Henry's phone began to ring. "It's your Aunt Maureen," he sighed tiredly. "She must have seen it on the news."

"I can talk to her Dad," Stevie offered quickly.

"No," he shook his head. "I'll do it, I'll go into the kitchen. You three focus on getting your stuff together." He turned from his children and Russell, taking in a deep breath as he hit answer. "Hi Maureen-"

His older sister interrupted him. "Henry, I've just turned on the news, they're saying that Elizabeth has been shot. I've said to Tom that these news outlets get things wrong, that if something like that had happened then we would have known, that you would have called."

Even now, Henry could hear the mild note of condemnation in her tone. "It's true," he admitted heavily. "I haven't been able to call, it happened so quickly-"

"Oh God." He heard some rustling, before her more faded voice hissed to her husband, "Tom, it's true. Put the news channel back on." Henry sighed and waited for her to turn her attention back to him, his patience on a knife edge. "Well, how is she? The news is being uselessly vague," she complained. "Nothing too serious I hope."

"It's bad," Henry told her bluntly. "She's in surgery, they're not sure…" he tailed off.

"Oh…Oh Henry, I'm sorry. Do you need me to come across? I can keep an eye on the kids."

"The kids are going to come to the hospital with me."

"Do you think that's a good idea? I hate to say this Henry, but if she'd badly injured, then what if she doesn't-"

"Then we'll deal with it as a family. Maureen, I'm sorry but I have to go. I'll let you know when I hear anything." Without waiting for a reply, he hung up, resisting the urge to slam his phone against the counter-top, to smash it to pieces. Instead he took another deep breath, he had to hold it together for their kids and to get to the hospital, to get to Elizabeth.

* * *

"I've had more news from the Whitehouse," Nadine told her team. "The McCord family is on their way to the hospital and Daisy, they've read your statement and have added in an update regarding her condition. Other than that, it's been cleared. The press are waiting." She levelled a look at the younger woman. "Are you ready?"

Daisy gave a curt nod. "As much as I can be." She gave a brief, humourless laugh. "I really shouldn't be this nervous."

"You will be fine," Nadine assured her.

"Any update on who's responsible? About whether this was an isolated attack?" Matt asked.

"Nothing yet."

"As in nobody knows or that they don't want to tell us?"

"As in I don't know," Nadine told him, her tone firm, ensuring that he knew this would be the end of that thread of conversation.

"How's Blake?" Jay asked.

"He has decided to go to the hospital and wait for news there. I tried to dissuade him, that we should wait until we have more information, but-" she lifted her shoulders in a small, almost helpless shrug. "He was most insistent." She passed Daisy the pieces of white card that had the statement printed across them. "But what the rest of us need to do is keep this place running in the Secretary's absence. I also believe that the depute Secretary is on his way."

"This day just gets even more joyful," Matt remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Matt!" Daisy rebuked him sharply.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Jay told them. "We'll stick together, and it'll be fine."

Daisy nodded and looked up at the clock. "I should get out there, before they get too restless." With that she stepped into the atrium and across to the briefing room, aware of the team following in her wake. The camera's clicked and flashed, as she entered the room, journalists shouting a jumble of questions at her as she moved behind the podium. She placed her cards in front of her, doing another quick run through in her head as the others moved into their positions behind her. She held her hand up, waiting for silence, until she could hear the whir of the video cameras. A second or two into the silence, she spoke. "I will be making a short statement but following that I won't be taking questions on this occasion. I can confirm that at approximately 12:35 today the Secretary of State, Elizabeth McCord was shot in Lincoln Park. Secretary McCord was taken to George Washington Hospital for treatment and is currently in surgery. The investigation is ongoing and currently I am unable to share any further details. Our thoughts and those of the President are with Secretary McCord and her family at this difficult time." With that she finished. Her hands had the mildest of tremors as she gathered her cards, the journalists continued to shout their questions as she left the room.

Matt gave her arm a brief squeeze as he caught up to her. "You did good."

Daisy gave an absent-minded nod. She did her job, but on days like these that didn't seem particularly helpful.

* * *

Ray Merchant blinked heavily, swaying in his seat as the chain of his handcuffs clinked against the table. Every thought he had ran together until it was one confusing jumble that he couldn't cut through. The door to the room opened, two men in suits sat across from him, their eyes burning into him. The one on the left hit a tape recorder. They said their names, he couldn't focus to remember them, they slipped like water from his memory. One looked down at the file in front of him. "Ray Merchant." He said it as though it were a question. Ray wondered if it was.

"You've had quite the day," the other one remarked.

Ray thought about the day, it all seemed so hazy, as though it hadn't really happened. He was sure it had though, was sure he'd finally confronted her, so he gave a nod.

"Anyone else plan that day with you?"

He could answer that. "No, it was just me." His hands had shook before it, he remembered that. He'd taken the Valium to help, short term they lifted the panic enough to help him focus, after that though they made everything even hazier.

"Hmmm, not sure if we can take your word for that Ray. You want to tell us your version of what happened today?"

"I saw her, I finally saw her. Tried for weeks but could never get close to her. She was teasing me. She'd ignored me." He was tired now, he'd taken a couple more tablets than normal. He'd need to sleep soon. Sleep helped when he'd had to take some extra, when he needed the focus. He blinked again, long and slow. "First I wanted to talk, tried to talk, but she never listened. Then I saw her, I was angry; s'why I brought the gun." He looked at the two men. "I'm tired," he told them. "I need to sleep."

"Later. Tell us about your day first."

Ray shook his head. "No, I need to sleep." He pressed his head into his forearm and let his eyes close. Ignoring their calls as he let that blissful oblivion claim him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Trauma surgeons aren't really a thing in the UK. So apologies if this isn't accurate.**

 **Thank you for all the reviews so far.**

* * *

"Look, I have my staff ID," Blake insisted, rummaging in the jacket of his suit.

"Even if you have ID there isn't anything I can tell you, and there isn't anywhere for you to wait other than these seats outside the ward. I'm sorry, Mr…"

"Moran, Blake Moran." He gave an attempt at a smile and tried again. "What about if I get the security agents to confirm who I am. Would that help?"

The ward clerkess gave him an exasperated look. "The agents aren't here just now."

"But the doctor in the emergency department said that Secretary McCord would be coming here after her surgery. So, they should be here"

Her jaw tightened, her eye twitching momentarily as she gave a strained reply, "Well the doctor shouldn't have passed on any information to you."

"But they did, and I just want to know how she is."

"And I can't pass on that information." Her expression finally softened slightly as she looked at his miserable expression. Mr Moran, all I can suggest is that you either wait here, outside the ward or you go elsewhere. Patient confidentiality means that even if I knew anything, I wouldn't be able divulge it to you. You aren't her next of kin."

Blake nodded. "Ok, ok," he finally relented. "I'll wait outside, but if you hear anything and Mr McCord is happy for me to be told-"

"Then someone will update you." She inclined her head in the direction of hard plastic chairs that lined the wall.

He held up his hands in defeat. "I'm going." He dropped down onto the seat and winced in discomfort as the hard edge dug into his spine. He sighed as he watched the woman who he had just spent the last five minutes debating with return to the ward area through the double doors. In politics you just had to push hard enough for long enough and you'd get what you wanted. Real life and politics didn't always merge.

Leaning his head against the wall, Blake gave a sigh, he had rushed down here, thinking that he'd be more use here and he had been wrong. Still though, he sat there. After all where else would he go, his place was at her side. She had hired him, given him his chance at a proper carer. She was his mentor, but more than that, he classed her as friend and you always stayed for friends.

* * *

Will Adams whistled jauntily as he meandered down the hospital corridor after a successful surgery. He had worried that when he moved from trauma surgery, from working in places where he was desperately needed, that he would start to find his new job frustrating, limiting. Instead, he had found the contrast presented him with a new set of challenges.

His original job out in the field had been to save the person on the table in front of him, with limited resources; no matter what it took. That was the priority, you didn't consider the aftermath, what the recovery would be; not really. His job at the military hospital was to deal with those after-effects of the decisions made in the field. He saw the other side of the mirror, was given the chance to improve upon the life saving and make it liveable. At other times what had been done in the field was a patch, a sticking plaster, and his job was to make it permanent. In the end he enjoyed it, enjoyed getting the chance to see his patients progress.

When he'd first went into medicine he had needed to save as many lives as possible, hoping that if he saved enough people it would burn away the memory of the one person he had failed. It had never been enough; it could never be enough. He could accept that now, after all these years, he'd never forgot but he could finally move forward.

He reached an awkward point in his tune, his whistle breaking slightly at the effort it took him. His mood was bright, even the thought of the impending ward round could do nothing to dampen it. Approaching the nurse's desk on the surgical floor, he asked Rebecca, "Who's joining me on this afternoon's round?"

Rebecca glanced up at him. "That would be Sister Rawlings. On your left," she told, nodding her head in that direction behind him.

"Ah Dr Adams, good of you to join us. As I heard you had finished in theatre, I took the opportunity to gather up your band of miscreants." She grimaced as she glanced at the handful of interns behind her. Will stifled a smile at her irritation, even he had to admit this batch was particularly green around the ears.

He shot a winning smile in her direction. "I know I'm late, I know it should be the morning but that's the game of emergency surgery for you."

"Mmmhmmm. And whilst that is understandable, it does throw off the routine of the ward. So…" she gestured her arm in the direction of the patient's rooms. Shall we?"

"Of course. Dr Taylor, would you like to tell us about our first patient."

The younger man stumbled forward, grabbing the chart outside the room door. "Yeah, I can do that."

"I'm glad to hear it." He walked into the room and smiled at his patient. "Good afternoon, Jake. How are we today?"

Jake pulled his eyes away from the TV screen fixed to his wall to answer, "Yeah I'm alright doc, still think I can feel it though." He gestured down at the space where his left leg should have been.

Dr Taylor butted in at this point. "Jake Michaels, caught in an IED explosion a fortnight ago. Left foot amputated in the field, severe shrapnel wounds meant that on arrival a below knee amputation was required, despite attempts to save the leg-"

Cutting in, Jake asked, "Do I have to hear this at every ward round?" He attempted a weak smile. "It's not exactly what I'd class as a fond memory."

"A fair point." Will turned to the interns and kept his tone even as he told them, "I think going forward, unless I'm reviewing a new admission or covering a patient we can drop the back story and simply focus on the here and now. Dr Taylor I'll take it from here, but don't panic you'll get the chance later in the round again." He looked back at his patient. "Phantom leg pain is common, I can start some gabapentin, it can help dull or get rid of the sensation for you."

"Yeah, thanks doc, don't like leaning down to fix it and remembering it's not there."

"Then we'll add it to your chart, we'll start in with your evening meds to begin with, it can make you a tad drowsy. How's the wound looking Sister?"

"Small de-hissed area, about an inch long at the left edge of the wound. It's been packed and dressed, there's a fair bit of exudate so it will need done daily to begin with. It was done this morning, although I can have it stripped down if you'd like to see it."

"No redness or swelling?"

"None."

"Jake, any increased pain?"

"Nope, they give me that oramorph before they dress it and it works a treat. The rest of the time it's ok with my regular painkillers."

"Good, then I think we can leave the wound alone till tomorrow. Can we arrange for the dressing to be taken down for the round?"

"Of course, Dr Adams."

"And how's the physio going?"

Jake's attention had drifted back to the TV. "Oh sorry, been caught up in the news. You seen it Dr Adams?"

"Not recently, I've been in theatre this morning and I tend to prefer a bit of classic rock in there if I'm honest. I do prefer to think of it as just rock though." He glanced momentarily at the screen and saw a picture of his sister in the right-hand corner. The volume had been turned down. "More drama at the State Department, I take it." Very few people knew that Elizabeth was his sister, it wasn't that he'd hidden it, it was just that it wasn't something that came up in conversation.

"You could say that. Someone shot the Secretary of State."

Will's head bounced back up from the chart he was staring at. "What was that?"

"Someone shot her, in Lincoln Park of all places."

Will felt his stomach roll. His voice came out a croak as he asked, "And is she, is she?"

"She's alive apparently. In surgery."

"Dr Adams, are you alright? You've gone rather pale," Sister Rawlings commented.

"I…ah…need a moment of air." He stepped from the room, aware of the curious stares of his interns.

The nurse followed him. "Sit down, I'll get you some water."

Will dropped into the seat, resting his head on his knees as the blood rushed in his ears. He had put his mobile in his office, they wouldn't have been able to reach him. Not that he would have been Henry's priority just now. Wait, was Henry with her? The kids? He felt increasingly like he was about to throw up the sandwich he'd inhaled post-op.

"Dr Adams." He heard Sister Rawling's voice again and looked up to see her now next to two men in suits. She handed him his water as she told him, "These two men are from the secret service." He had to hand it to the woman, she was nothing if not unflappable.

"Elizabeth?" He muttered, looking at them hopelessly, waiting for the next blow.

* * *

Henry was taken aback as he and his kids approached the intensive care unit, to see a miserable looking Blake camped out on a row of plastic chairs, his head pressed against the wall behind him. His normally impeccable suit looking rumpled, while a thin strand of his hair stood from the side of his head. His head rolled forward at the sound of footsteps and he jumped to his feet when he saw who it was. "Dr McCord, how are you?" He winced. "Stupid question."

Henry managed a wan smile. "We're holding up. How are you, Blake?"

"I'm ok. I just thought…I mean I wanted to come down here and find out how Secretary McCord is doing."

"Have you heard anything?" Henry asked, a tone of urgency now present in his voice.

"Nothing. They won't tell me anything. Anything I've heard has been from the twenty-four-hour news channel and that's just circulating Daisy's statement and then adding a whole lot of speculation."

"Oh. Well you can wait with us. They said there was somewhere we could wait, that Elizabeth would be coming here after surgery."

"Are you sure that's ok?

Henry nodded at his wife's personal assistant. "Of course it is." He leaned forward to hit the buzzer at the side of the entrance to the ITU.

There was a few moments of pause and Henry lifted his hand to buzz again, when Blake said from behind him, "They come to the door, I made that mistake earlier and got an earful for it."

Biting back his impatience, Henry waited until the door was pulled open. "I'm the ward clerkess, how can I help you?" the woman asked him.

"I'm Henry McCord, I was told to come here to wait for my wife."

"Of course." She let the door fall closed behind her, digging a key out of the pocket of her tunic. "The family room is just down here." She led the family a little way down the corridor, unlocking one of the doors. "Your agents cleared the room earlier." She let them file past her. "Would you like any tea or coffee?" She gave Blake the side eye as he slid past her.

"No, thank you."

"Very well. There are machines in the main atrium if you change your mind. If there are any updates then a member of staff will come to you."

The door shut with a soft thud as she left. Henry sat down next to his two younger children, letting Allison rest her head against his shoulder, pulling her into a hug.

* * *

Ray Merchant's roommate, Sam, had jumped out of her skin when the FBI had stormed into their shared flat, guns pointed as they ordered him to lie on the floor. He had shook as they patted him down and then hauled him to his feet, barking questions at him.

"Look I don't know the guy that well. He'd answered an ad on Gumtree," he spluttered, watching as they pulled every item he owned out and threw it to the floor.

The agent questioning him, surveyed him through narrowed eyes, before a shot of, "Sir, you should come see this," drew his attention to Ray's bedroom.

Agent Archer stomped into the room, to find his colleague holding a shoe box filled to the brim with pictures. He pulled on a glove as he riffled through them. They were all of the Secretary of State, some of her alone, some with her staff and others with her family. He sucked in a deep breath. "How the hell did he get close enough to take all of these?"

"So far they're all in public places. It's not unusual for the public to take pictures, he would just have needed to blend in."

Agent Archer turned one over and let out a low whistle. "He's even put the date and time on all of them."

"That's helpful. You know, in a weird way."

He gave him a look designed to silence. "Anything else?"

"A diary."

"Bag it, and then lets get back to ask Mr Merchant about his photography hobby."


	7. Chapter 7

**The next update definitely won't be as quick as this one. As back to work I go. Although I'm not planning it on being almost a year. That was a definite slip.**

* * *

"Uncle Will!" Alison jumped out of her seat and hurried to hug her uncle, who had burst through the door of the family room, her siblings quickly following suit

Will hugged his nieces and nephew tightly. "I'm so glad to see all of you," he told them. "I hope you don't mind; I asked the car to bring me straight here."

"Of course we don't mind. Mom would want you here," Stevie replied firmly.

"It's only right you're here," Henry told him, getting jerkily to his feet. Seeing Will had brought on a fresh wave of guilt, he'd already lost so much; what if his decision today caused him to lose even more?

Will pulled his brother-in-law into a hug. The man looked awful, his face was pale, his eyes hollow; it was a look Will had often seen in his line of work, it was a thousand times worse to see it on the face of a family member. "Any news?"

"None," Henry stated grimly. "Still waiting." He pressed his hands awkwardly into his pockets again. "I'm sorry about the welcome committee, I tried to phone-"

"It's fine. I'd been in theatre, my phone was in my office. I had your missed call and about twenty from Sophie." He managed a smile. He didn't blame Henry for the way he'd found out, the man would have had enough on his plate, and he had tried to get hold of him. "Speaking of Sophie, she's going to drop by with some food soon, keep us going for a bit."

Henry simply gave a nod, his attention drifting to the small window again. Stevie gave a weak smile. "That's really nice of her, but I don't think any of us are that hungry."

"You might not feel like it, but believe me you need to eat something," Will told them. "And given the circumstances I don't think we should be wandering down to the canteen." He glanced around the room again and noted the dark haired man perched on the edge of his seat, looking particularly awkward. He held out his hand. "Sorry, don't think we've met. I'm Will Adam's, Elizabeth's brother"

Blake scrambled up, taking the proffered hand. "Blake Moran, I'm her personal assistant."

Stevie smiled. "That's him being modest, he's Mom's right hand."

"Well someone has to keep her in check, make sure she stays out of trouble," Will joked, wishing he hadn't when he saw Henry's shoulder stiffen at his words. His normally relaxed brother in law looked as though he was close to a melt-down. "You know the one thing I think I forgot to ask Sophie to bring was juice," he told the room. "And I could do with a coffee."

"I can go get that," Blake offered quickly.

"That's ok. It'll need more than one of us. Henry can give me a hand."

Henry glanced back across at hearing his name. "Sorry, I missed that. What did you say, Will?"

"I said about going to get some drinks. You for one look like you need a strong black coffee." He nodded at the door. "Come on, quicker we go, quicker we'll be back."

"I don't have any change," Henry mumbled.

"That's fine, I've got plenty." Will pulled open the door and gestured for Henry to go first. He waited until they were further down the corridor, heading towards the main atrium when he asked, "So what do we know so far?"

"That why you dragged me out here?"

"Partially, figured that as open as you might be with the kids, you'll probably still gloss over some of the facts. I want the facts. I also dragged you out here because you looked like you might need a break from all those eyes on you."

"There's eyes out here as well," Henry pointed out.

"There is, but they're not your kids. You don't need to act like everything is going to be fine. So…spit it out."

"What do you want to know first?"

"We'll start with Elizabeth. They said she was shot, but they didn't tell me anything else. The news tells me she's in surgery, but I don't know what for exactly. Although looking at your face, I'm guessing it's not just a flesh wound."

Henry shook his head. "No, it's not. I don't know many of the details, not yet. She was separated from her detail, he walked up to her and…" He tailed off, swallowing heavily before trying again. "Close range," he whispered. "They said there was damage to her lung, possibly her heart, bullet was caught at her rib."

The wonder of practising medicine was the ability to detach yourself – at least initially – from the raw emotion of the situation, to take in the details and think of them logically before making a move. Will had never been more grateful for that fact than he was right now. "Did you see her?" he asked.

"Yeah, by the time I got there she was unconscious, they were just about to take her to surgery."

"Ok." Will gave a nod, his mind still whirring, working out the details. "When was that?"

Henry glanced up at the clock on the wall across from the vending machines. "About two hours ago."

"How long did they say surgery would take?"

"Three to four hours, possibly more."

"Right. So that's good." Henry looked at him incredulously at those words and so Will explained his thoughts further. "Damage to her lung and to her heart means they were likely to use a bypass machine, does the work of both while keeping everything perfectly still so that they can fix the damage. Two hours means that they've been able to get her onto the machine, that they've at least been able to get that far." He had another thought, unless they'd had to put her on during an arrest, that would be sailing close to the wind, would be a last chance option if she'd crashed and they'd not been able to resuscitate her. He wouldn't think about that possibility, instead he clapped his hand against Henry's shoulder. "Sometimes the longer these things take, the better."

Henry hesitated before telling him, "The only time I've seen that much blood was when I was duty and it was never from one person."

"It's different when it's someone you care about as well."

"Yeah. I keep thinking, how can she lose all of that and come out the other end of it."

"She can, she's a fighter. George Washington is filled to the brim with brilliant surgeons. They got her here quickly. She's in with a shout." Will slipped some coins into the coffee machine. "Do want you your usual, or something stronger?"

Henry sank down onto one of the seats across from him. "Anything."

"Usual it is. Probably not the time to experiment." He glanced over his shoulder to see Henry sink his head into his hands, his fingers gripping into his scalp. One of the security detail edged closer, a look of concern on his face. Will shook his head. On seeing him take a step back again, Will moved to the seat next to Henry and nudged him, pressing the plastic cup into his hands, when he looked up. "So, other than the obvious, what else is bothering you." He took a sip of his own coffee and grimaced, that machine stuff was truly dreadful, as if relatives weren't suffering enough, they then had to inflict this bilge water onto them. "Oh, and don't bother to try to deny it. I'm an expert in identifying people who are torturing themselves. Did it to myself for long enough."

Henry stared at the wall ahead of him as he finally admitted, "I left her standing there, alone, in that park. I was meant to meet her, I lost track of time and I ended up phoning to cancel. Spoke to her just minutes before…" He closed his eyes, pressed the heel of his free hand into his forehead, trying to press away the pain in his head as he continued. "I was meant to be with her and maybe if I'd been where I was supposed to be-"

"This wouldn't have happened?" Will supplied.

Opening his eyes, Henry swallowed painfully and nodded. "Yeah. If I'd been there we might have been in a different part of the park, or she wouldn't have been separated from the detail, or he might not have approached her-"

"Or he might have just shot both of you," Will pointed out calmly, blowing on his coffee before taking another sip. "This stuff is awful. I might need to risk the canteen after all."

Henry looked at him. "I feel like you should be angry with me. If something happens to her then it's my fault."

"No, it's the fault of the guy who shot her." Will sighed and leaned back, glancing across at Henry. "Henry, I get it. I really do. I questioned every part of the day my parents died. Examined every angle and every little thing that I could have done differently, anything that might have changed the outcome. And yeah of course I found things, there's always going to be ifs and buts if you look for them. But, if this guy had decided today was the day, for whatever reason, then chances are he would have shot you as well. And the kids would be sitting in the same situation that Elizabeth and I ended up in. Maybe this was the way it was supposed to play out-"

Henry let out a scoff. "Like fate."

"I think that the religious scholar should maybe mock that idea a little bit less," Will teased him. "But yeah. You might think that if you'd been there you could have stopped this, sad fact is it's happened and wondering about it doesn't do anybody any favours. Save your anger for the man who deserves it, focus on getting justice for Elizabeth, focus on supporting her when she gets out of theatre."

"You know she'll never believe that you were the calm, sensible one out of us."

"I know," he gave a heavy sigh, a small smile toying at the corners of his lips. "Yet another burden I'll have to bear as the put-upon younger brother."

Unable to help himself, Henry let out a snort of laughter at Will's martyr-like expression. Finally he took a mouthful of coffee, the first thing he'd had since hearing the news about Elizabeth, and let out a cough as the bitter liquid hit the back of his throat. "Christ."

"Yeah, it's grim. They probably haven't cleaned that machine in years."

* * *

Ray felt most of his fuzziness subside. He could look at the photographs in front of him and remember taking them. He heard his lawyer tell him, "You don't need to answer that question."

He blinked at the older man. He couldn't remember the question, but why wouldn't he answer? She tormented him, they needed to know that. He turned back to the agents. "What did you ask?"

"We asked about the photos. Why did you take them?"

He pressed his finger down on one, it was in a clear pocket now, and he drew it closer to him. He could remember that day. It had been the first week. She'd been at a fundraiser for her middle daughter's school, a collection of stalls and carnival style games set up for the local community. He had pulled his cap down and mingled amongst the crowd. Snapping a picture had been easy, it was always easy, so many people were doing the same. He remembered her turning and for a moment he had thought she was smiling at him; he had taken one step forward when he realised that it was directed behind him. Her husband had brushed past him, his arm going around her. He'd continued to watch from afar, taken more photos, but that one picture had caught the start of that smile, the one he'd thought was for him. "Everyone takes photos."

"Most of the time the people in them know they're being taken."

"She was the one who sent the sign to me. She wanted me to get in touch with her. I wrote to her, but she ignored me." His hand curled, his fingers crumpling the photo.

"What sign?"

"She sent agents to me, to question me about her. She was always like that, always playing games. I knew that was her sign that she wanted to see me again."

"You were questioned regarding harassment and threats made towards Secretary McCord's family. I don't think I'd call that a sign that she wanted to become pen-pals."

Ray shook his head. "You just don't understand her. That's what she was like. She would pretend to be proper, pretend that she didn't want me, but it was all a test."

"So, you wrote to her after this?"

"Yes."

"Where did you address them to?"

"At first I sent them to the state office. But I sent the last two to her home."

"When did you send those?"

"I sent the last one about ten days ago."

"Both of them?"

"Yes, I tried to be conciliatory, in case she hadn't gotten the ones I sent to her office, but she just kept ignoring me." His teeth gritted. "She always did that. In the last one, I warned her."

The Agent leaned forward. "Warned her?" he echoed.

His lawyer butted in again. "Mr Merchant, I will remind you again that you don't need to answer any question put to you. In fact, I would strongly advice a private conversation between us."

"You are of course more than welcome to that option," came the second Agent's reply. "But we do appreciate your current co-operation."

Ray gave a conciliatory smile. "Yeah. I'm co-operating. Nothing to hide." He looked down at another photo, it was taken in the same park he'd found her in today. She'd been with her husband that time. He pulled it towards him, picked it up between his thumb and fore finger. She had her arm around him, smiling at him. He'd wanted her to smile at him like that, just once; instead she made him jump through hoops. Well he was done with it. "I warned her, in the last letter. Told her I wouldn't be played with, not again. Said I was more than happy to speak to her, but that this was her last chance." His smile shuttered. "She still decided to play her silly little game."

"Then what happened?"

"I was angry. She tore my life apart and I got everything sorted and she came back to do it again." The photo was crumpled in his hand.

"Did you go out and buy the gun?"

"No, I'd had it for years."

"It's not registered to you."

Ray ignored that point. "I wasn't always going to shoot her," he told them. "That would have been unreasonable. I took it with me because it would make her listen. If I had it and I had the chance, then I could make her listen."

"So, what changed?"

"I'd been waiting for three days for the opportunity. Don't get me wrong I expected to wait, so I wasn't annoyed at that, not really. I pulled it out so I could get her to listen to me. But the way she looked at me, as if she'd never seen me before, as if she didn't know who I was!" He dropped the crumpled photo from his grip, staring at her face again. "She kept trying to hurt me. I just returned the favour."


	8. Chapter 8

FBI Director, Kevin Doherty frowned as he stared through the pane of one-way glass that looked into the interrogation room Ray Merchant was currently sitting in. His fingertips tapping slowly, almost methodically, against the table next to him. "It doesn't make sense," he muttered under his breath. "Bring up that video again," he requested. The agent beside him nodded and pressed play. "Zoom in." Kevin instructed.

"That's as far as it will go, video quality wasn't great. Typical cell phone footage."

"Right." Kevin leaned forward, peering at the footage. "He has the gun out as he approaches her. You can just make it out in his right hand. She has her back to him, doesn't see him approaching her. Then look," he pointed, finger pressing briefly against the screen. "Merchant looks as though he says something, that's what gets her attention. She turns, and 1…2…3…he fires. He only gives her three seconds to react before he shoots."

"He admits to having the gun out, an attempt to intimidate, but he's saying it was her reaction that caused him to shoot."

"Three seconds isn't long for her to react." He gave a deep sigh. "She's turned away from the camera when he fires. We can't see her expression and we can't tell if she speaks to him. Has anyone else handed in, or released, any other footage of the incident?"

"No Sir, this was it."

"Damn." He chewed on the inside of his cheek. His stomach churning uncomfortably as he thought over Merchant's words. "What's this about letters sent to the McCord's home address? Did the secret service report any of this in their initial statement about potential current threats?"

"No, there was no mention of it."

"Get back onto them. I want more information. Pull the file on our initial investigation into Merchant. I want to know why we discounted him as a threat, because that's not going to play well when it comes out. He looked back into the room and bit out a curse. "Fuck, I have to go and meet the President to update him and so far all I've got is a litany of more questions and potential failings from us and the secret service."

"We have a confession."

"Considering we caught him in the act, that's not exactly a breakthrough in the case."

"Will we charge him?"

"Not yet, not while he's talking to us. Tell them to get as much useful information out of him as possible. When he clams up, and he will, then charge him with attempted murder."

"Yes, Sir."

Kevin stormed from the room, the door slamming heavily in his wake.

* * *

"There's a full four pages in here filled with horizontal stripes," Stevie moaned, flicking through the dog-eared magazine in disgust. "Even I know that horizontal stripes are unflattering."

"Actually, that's not true," Alison cut in eagerly. "It's a myth, horizontal stripes are actually more universally flattering than vertical ones. There was a study done on it and it-"

"There was a study done on stripy clothing?" Jason cut in, his words slightly muffled by the sandwich he was chewing.

"Yeah. Dr Thompson, who's a psychologist and an expert in visual perception looked at two hundred women-"

Jason interrupted again. "Why do you sound like this is a normal thing to study."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because it's mental." Jason shook his head. "You've definitely made this up."

"I haven't." Alison scowled across at her brother. "In fact, if I had my phone then I'd show you."

"I can settle this," Stevie informed her younger siblings, digging into the pocket of her long-discarded jacket, to pull out her mobile. She frowned as she looked at the screen, a look of horror growing on her face. "Shit," she hissed.

"Dad, Stevie swore," Jason announced automatically.

"Not the time, Jase," Henry warned his son. "Stevie, what's wrong?"

"Jareth." She looked up at her Dad, managing to look both panic stricken and guilt ridden at the same time. "I've got all these missed calls from him. I forgot to tell him about Mom, I was so caught up…" Stevie jumped to her feet, and tapping at her phone, rushed from the room.

Alison pulled a face as she went back to her magazine, muttering, "Well that's going to go down like a bucket of cold sick."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, pretty big thing to forget you haven't told the guy you're marrying."

Henry levelled a hard stare at his younger children. "When she comes back in, I don't want to hear a word from either of you about this."

"Fine," Alison rolled her eyes, "but you have to admit, it's weird. We've been here for like, almost three hours now."

"Ally…"

"Fine." She reached out and grabbed a packet of crisps. "My lips are sealed."

"Same," Jason told his Dad. He turned his attention to his Uncle. "These sandwiches are immense."

Will gave a smile. "I'll let your aunt know, although it's fairly simple."

"Yeah, maybe, but I mean Mom can mess up a ham sandwich-" Jason broke off abruptly and looked up guiltily. "I didn't mean-"

"It's ok." Henry smiled across at his son. "Your Mom is a terrible cook, she knows it as well, you're allowed to make a joke, Jase."

"Doesn't feel right though, laughing when she's…"

"There's nothing wrong with laughter," Will told him. "When I was in the field we found the most ridiculous things funny, because sometimes you just need to let of steam." He kicked out his feet, stretching out his legs. "On that note, I think maybe I should go out and grab a proper coffee after all. Hot chocolate for you two?" He asked his niece and nephew.

"Only if it has whipped cream and marshmallows," Jason replied, managing a smile.

"Same," Alison told him.

Will got to his feet, asking Blake, "Do you mind giving me a hand? We're probably the only two that can get to the shop without attracting any attention."

"Of course." Blake scrambled up, grabbing his coat.

"Coffee for you, Henry?"

"Sounds good."

"I'll get you a double shot. You probably need it. What should I get Stevie?"

"Nothing with caffeine in it," Alison told him. "She'll be bad enough when she comes back in, so definitely get her a hot chocolate."

Henry looked towards the door with a small frown and got up. "I might come out with you, see how Stevie is." He looked at Alison and Jason. "I'll just be out in the corridor, if you need anything."

"We'll be fine," Jason told him, reaching for another sandwich.

"Yeah, Dad. You don't need to worry." Alison grinned as she concluded, "I'll keep him in line."

* * *

"So, based on the information we've gathered so far, we've concluded that this was an isolated, targeted attack on Secretary McCord and not part of a larger campaign. I've spoken to the head of the secret service and they concur with that, so security protocols will decrease to there standard level," Director Doherty informed President Conrad Dalton.

"And the shooter, we have an identity?"

"We do. An ex-student of Secretary McCord's by the name of Ray Merchant."

"Why did he target her now?" Russell asked. "Was there any history when he was a student?"

"She made a complaint regarding his behaviour towards her, allegations of harassment. Initially she swapped him to a different advisor, but he persisted, so she lodged an official complaint. He was given a warning but chose to leave the university."

"Did the harassment continue?" Conrad asked.

"No, Merchant became a bit of a hermit, later began blogging. He was fairly critical of her policies after she became Secretary of State, but nothing threatening."

"So, what changed? What made him grab a gun and go after her in Lincoln Park?"

"He was flagged as a person of interest and investigated when the harassment of the McCord family started. He wasn't found to be a threat and so he was discarded as potential suspect."

Russell gave a derisive snort. "Not a threat. Clearly Elizabeth believed he had the potential to be one if she was handing his name over in that context."

Kevin pulled a face. "It wasn't the Secretary who flagged him. According to the files it was Dr McCord who brought him to our attention. Secretary McCord believed that Merchant wouldn't have carried out anything after being quiet for so long."

"Unfortunately, she was wrong about that," Conrad remarked.

"Not exactly. Our initial intel and conversations with Merchant suggest that his interest in the Secretary was renewed after our enquiry. He began to follow her, we have photos, none of which pre-date the investigation. The tone of his blog also appears to have shifted around that time, became much more agreeable towards her policies. He thinks that her having him looked into was some sort of message, designed to get his interest."

"Doesn't he sound delightful." Russell scowled. "Is he even going to be cleared as mentally competent to stand trial for this?"

"It's too early to tell."

"How did he manage to follow her?" Conrad cut in.

"He blended in. There's nothing to make him stand out in the crowd, he played on that." Kevin adjusted his cuff-links nervously before he admitted, "There's something else, Sir?"

"What's that?"

"Merchant claims that he sent the Secretary letters. Initially he sent these to her office, given the time frame we're working with, we think these are probably still awaiting security screening and we're looking into where they are. However, he states the last two were sent to her home address."

"Did the Service flag them?"

"No, the initial letter arrived. They checked it and the contents were unremarkable, fawning; asking her to reply. It was written off as an over-zealous fan-"

"One who knew her home address," Conrad stated.

"Unfortunately, there's more than one member of the public who manages to get hold of the home address of a public official. It's the second letter that's causing some…problems. Merchant says it was a warning, but so far, we haven't been able to track it."

Conrad frowned. "This was a man who had been investigated by the FBI as a potential threat, even if he was cleared, surely, given his previous behaviour, he was listed with the secret service and he should have been flagged when the first letter to Bess' home was received."

"He should have been," Kevin admitted. "I spoke to the head of service on the drive across. It appears there was a breakdown in communication, once our first investigation into Merchant was concluded his name should have been passed onto the service, in case he attempted to make contact. I'm personally looking into what happened, but it looks as though a failure on our end meant that they were never given his name."

Russell gave a humourless laugh. "Well, hasn't this been an utter cock up."

"Russell," Conrad growled warningly.

"Well what else would you call it?" He shook his head. "And who exactly is going to be the one to break it to Henry McCord that not only was it him asking us to look into this guy that set him back onto the trail of stalking his wife, but also that the systems put in place to protect her, failed miserably."

"I'll speak to him personally," Kevin told them. "It's understandable why he wanted Merchant investigated."

"He might not see it that way."

"Have we charged him?"

"Not yet, he's co-operating, still talking to us. I'd like to keep it that way, I think when we charge him, he'll clam up."

"Fine." Conrad glanced over at Russell. "Let's try and keep his identity out of the media until he's been charged."

Russell raised an eyebrow. "I'll try, but I can't promise anything."

Conrad nodded curtly. "Kevin, I would strongly suggest that you go and speak to Henry McCord sooner rather than later. I'd prefer that we don't risk him seeing this on the news, after all, we all know how the media can get ahead of us."

* * *

Henry found his daughter at the end of the corridor, twirling her phone around in her hand as she stared out of the window. "Did you get hold of Jareth?" he asked her.

She turned, trying and failing to smile, her eyes watering instead. "Yeah, I did."

"Aw, Stevie." Henry pulled her into a hug. "What happened?"

"What always happens just now with us, it turned into an argument. At first it was going ok, I could tell he was annoyed but that he felt he couldn't say anything, and then he offered to come to the hospital. I told him that I didn't think that was a good idea."

"Why did you tell him that?" Henry asked curiously.

Stevie took a step back and wrapped her arms around herself. "The flights are expensive and by the time he gets here then everything could be ok. Mum would be out of surgery…I said that to him." She sniffed. "He said that he hoped she would be fine, but if she wasn't then he wanted to be here for me. That the money doesn't matter. I maybe took it the wrong way. It turned into him saying that I clearly didn't want him here, that I didn't even care enough to tell him myself." She looked up at her Dad. "He hung up on me in the end."

Henry winced. "Not the most mature way to end an argument."

"No, but then he has a point. I didn't think about Jareth, if it hadn't been for checking my phone…" She shook her head. "That's not normal. He's my fiancé, I should want him to be here. Mom is always the first person that you go with anything, isn't she?"

"She is," Henry confirmed, he couldn't deny it.

Stevie gave a small smile. "I mean you two ended up in court because you tell each other everything."

"That doesn't mean we haven't had our own problems."

"But communication isn't one of them."

"Stevie, communication is something that every couple has to work on at some point. It's not easy, but it's worth it."

"I thought when I first met Jareth that we had that side of things sorted, we were always so in sync, it was all so easy. Now, now talking seems to take all of our effort and we still seem to clash." She gave a soft sigh. "And beside that, Dad I forgot to tell him, didn't even think about him. Even now, I feel like I don't want him here, like I don't want all the drama having Jareth here will bring with it. I don't want to end up arguing with him and that's what would happen, and I can't deal with that right now." Stevie held her hands up, shaking her head.

Henry looked at his eldest daughter. "You know, it's ok to change your mind about what your future with Jareth looks like. Marriage isn't easy, so when you go into it, you need to be sure. Marriage can be the most amazing experience but if it's not with the right person then you're both going to be pretty damn miserable."

Stevie folded her arms back across herself, hunching miserably. "I can't think about this right now, I really can't."

"Ok." He wrapped an arm around her. "Come on, your Uncle Will is going out to get hot chocolate, I think that, and some more dog-eared, old gossip magazines is just what you need right now."

Stevie managed to smile. "Which is just as well because that's all that's on offer."

* * *

"Ok, bullet is out and intact." Charles Reynold examined his surgical field. "Looks as though we've found all the damage. Let's try coming off bypass."

He let the perfusionist and anaesthetist take over, holding his breath as the machine slowly whirred to a stop. As Elizabeth's heart fluttered back into life, he let out a noise of relief. "Good. No signs of any bleeds. How's her pressure?"

"Eighty-five systolic and rising."

"Promising. Ok, can we arrange to close then and can someone page and ask for a neuro consult to meet us at the scan. How's her pupils?"

"Equal and reactive."

"A good start."

"Do you want me to close and you can speak to the family?" his registrar asked.

"No, not this time. I'd like to see this through to the end. I'd also like the scan results before I speak to her husband, confirm if there's any damage to her spinal cord and check if there's any obvious damage from the arrest."


	9. Chapter 9

Kevin paced the small room nervously, rehearsing his speech once more in his head. He let out a huff, this day had been an absolute shit-show andit wasn't about to get any better. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation with Henry McCord, he doubted the man was going to be in a forgiving mood and for once it actually felt worse than waiting to speak to the President. He glanced up at the painting of soft focused blurred colours that graced the hospital wall as he waited for the secret service to bring the man through. As much as he didn't want to have this conversation it had to be done and he'd decided it would be best not to have it in front of the McCord children, asking instead for a private room.

The door creaked open and a strained Henry McCord entered the room, he managed a small smile of greeting as he extended his hand, "Director Doherty, I take it you have news."

Kevin shook Henry's hand and gestured that he should sit down. "I do." He followed Henry's lead and dropped down into the low padded seat across from him. "You'll be glad to know that we've made an arrest and have a confession, we're also confident that this was an isolated targeted attack against the Secretary and her alone, so your family isn't at any further risk."

Henry's jaw tensed, his voice low, gravelly, as he asked. "Who is he? Who is the bastard?"

"Raymond Merchant."

The name hung in the air for a moment. "That son of a bitch," Henry finally breathed out, his cheeks flushing with anger. "I knew it." He jumped to his feet. "I damn well knew he was a threat to her. I said it! I said it and the FBI, your agency, told me that he was harmless." His finger jabbed accusingly at Kevin. "Harmless! My wife's fighting for her life because of a man that you deemed harmless!"

Kevin pulled his top lip briefly in between his teeth, steeling himself for just how much worse this conversation was about to get. "I admit that the agency has made errors in it's handling of Ray Merchant as a potential threat." He heard Henry scoff disdainfully as he shook his head and forced himself to continue. "But the initial assessment of Merchant was correct."

"How the hell can you sit there, while my wife fights for her life and tell me that?" Henry asked, a dangerous edge to his voice now.

"There were no indicators in Merchant's behaviour at the time of the initial investigation that would flag him as a dangerous individual. Yes his blog mentioned the Secretary, using a less than respectful tone, but there was no underlying threat detected. The threat arose following that investigation-"

"What do you mean following it? If he was a threat after then he was a threat before," Henry interrupted.

"Merchant took the investigation as a sign that the Secretary's interest in him had been renewed. At his home we discovered photographs which show he had been following her, his blogs about her changed to being positive, fawning even. He's claimed to have sent her letters, which we are in the process of tracking down, but so far none of this contact pre-dates the initial investigation. Unfortunately, although you were correct in identifying him as a potential threat, it appears to have also been his trigger."

Henry looked as though someone had slapped him, he swallowed heavily as he swayed momentarily on his feet. "That was his trigger?"

"That's how the evidence points just now, yes. He took it as a sign that she wanted to contact him, when he made attempts to do so and she ignored him, he stepped up his campaign, culminating in him approaching her today, he saw an opportunity and he took it."

"Right." Henry dropped back into his seat, cradling his head in his hands as he drew in deep, ragged breaths.

"Are you ok Dr McCord, do you need me to get someone?"

He shook his head, "No."

Kevin watched him warily, giving him a moment before he added. "The thing is Dr McCord, you need to know that the bureau has dropped the ball on this one." There was no point in sugar coating it, he knew the truth would out.

Henry's eyes were slightly teary as he looked up and asked, "What do you mean? I thought you said the investigation's assessment was right."

"It was, but given that he was flagged by yourself and given his history with the Secretary, his name should have been passed to the service as a person of note."

"What difference would that have made? If there was no warning, if you don't have the letters-"

"We have one letter. so far The first couple he sent to the state department, given the long screening process we reckon that those ones are still in one of the mail rooms. But he also sent two to your home address. The first one he sent to your home is the one letter we have, and while it isn't threatening, his name, combined with the content should have triggered the service to take another look at him."

"So why didn't it?"

"We're still looking into how it happened, but so far it looks as though the service was never given his name by the FBI following the investigation, so there was nothing to trigger. From what Merchant's told us, the second letter contained an obvious threat, it should have arrived at your home days ago; but it didn't."

Henry looked almost haunted as he looked up and met Kevin's steady gaze. "So what you're telling me is that I set this lunatic's interest back onto my wife and then every form of her security failed in protecting her."

Kevin finally looked away, aware that Henry had gotten to his feet again and moved to the window. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look over. "There's nothing I can say-"

"No, there isn't. I assume that he's been charged."

"He will be, he's being co-operative at present, when that stops my agents have been told to charge him, following that we'll have to release his name. I have to warn you that it's likely that in the next few days the background of this will become public knowledge."

"I assume you mean both your mistakes along with the fact that I laid the bait for him."

"Both will come out, yes, but I meant more the accusations of harassment that the Secretary lodged against him."

"Why does that matter?"

"In this day and age, with the current movement and those determined to minimise it and flip it back onto the victim, we can't be sure what angle the media will take."

Henry didn't even glance at him as he replied, "In the grand scheme of things, it's not my biggest concern. They can play whatever angle they want, the facts speak for themselves. He harassed my wife, she tried to dissuade him and when that didn't work she reported him. I would imagine that the fact she's the one in a hospital bed after he drew a gun on her will confirm just who the real victim is."

"The press office is concerned that the media will make allegations that there was an affair."

Henry's hand slammed loudly against the wall, his fist clenched. "I don't want to discuss this," he said tightly. "Now is there anything else?"

"No. If there's any further developments then I'll make sure you're updated."

"Fine."

Kevin waited for a moment, but when Henry continued to stare out the window, he finally turned away and left the room. It hadn't went well, but it could have been worse, he reasoned.

Henry heard the door fall shut and he let his head fall forward against the cold window pane. His tears came quickly, his breath ragged, this was his fault, he had set this chain of events in motion. He was the one who had insisted Merchant be questioned, Elizabeth had wanted it left it the past and he hadn't listened to her, confident that he had known best. Then he'd compounded it by leaving her alone in that park today, where Merchant had been sitting waiting for his opportunity. Henry pressed his thumb and fore-finger into the corner of his eyes, trying to calm himself. How the hell was he going to look at his kids knowing that this was all his damned fault.

* * *

Charles watched as the images from the CT scan slowly appeared on the screen in front of him, the machine whirring and clicking behind the safety glass. "Spine looks clear," he announced with more than some relief.

"I concur, no sign of any swelling, no transection at any point," Dr William Callaghan, the hospital's top neurologist concurred. He leaned forward as he added, "Now let's get to the main event, can we move to the head?"

"Sure." The radiologist pressed a button next to her and spoke into the scanner itself, informing the anaesthetist standing guard over Elizabeth's airway and ventilator, "commencing head CT." When she received a nod of acknowledgement , she hit another button and the machine buzzed into action again.

"How long was she down for?"

"Five minutes."

"Hmmm." William pulled his glasses out of the top pocket of his white coat and pushed them on with one hand, peering at the new images on screen. "I can't see any obvious damage, brain looks healthy and intact."

"Good."

"How long ago was the arrest?"

"About five, maybe six hours ago now." When William pulled a face, Charles resisted the urge to shake him and asked. "What is it?"

"I mean this is a good start, but unfortunately hypoxic brain injury is a tricky beast, the damage isn't always evident at first. The brain is damaged but the death of the cells doesn't always show fully on the scans for a few days; sometimes even weeks."

"So what next?"

"Well, what's your plan for extubation?"

"Barring any complications then we'll keep her intubated and ventilated overnight, let her rest and then wean her off the sedation tomorrow, hopefully have her off the vent a few hours later."

"Any significant damage should be evident fairly quickly in that case, although if there is damage then dependant on where it is, weaning her from the ventilator could be difficult." He gave a shrug. "Look, I wish I could give you a straight answer on this, but all I can say is it looks as good as it can just now. If she regains consciousness and you have concerns, or there's no improvement in her conscious level following the withdrawal of her sedation then I'm happy for you to call for another consult." He glanced at the watch pinned to his top pocket. "In the meantime, I have an post surgical ward round to continue, so if you'll excuse me."

Charles nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly. He had wanted to be able to give her family certainty when he spoke to them, but it looked as though that wasn't going to be an option.

* * *

Susan Pullman picked up the pile of mail from the floor and shifted into the side to let her husband Peter slide past with their suitcases. "Just shove them in the spare room," she told him, "I'll go through them later and get the washing sorted."

He gave a grunt as he dropped them by the stairs, stretching his back. "Should just leave them there, washing machine's downstairs, saves me lugging them up there."

"I'm going to ignore you because I know what you're like when you're tired," she tutted.

"I'm not tired, I'm pissed off. Twelve damn hours that flight was delayed and then trying to get past that stupid police baracade-"

"Peter, our next door neighbour was shot. I know you're annoyed they wouldn't let us through but it is understandable."

He grumbled again. "She wasn't shot anywhere near here!"

"Yes, but who knows why they did it. They need to make sure that they haven't targeted anywhere else." Susan flicked through the letter and paused. "Looks like the postman got our 3 mixed up with their 5 again. Although no wonder, that is some shoddy handwriting."

Peter muttered irritably, "Well I don't think she'll be in any rush to read it now. Shove it to the side and we can take it round when things have settled in a few days."

"We can't exactly hold onto the Secretary of State's mail," she tsked. "I'll run it across and you can take those suitcases upstairs on your way to bed, I'll be with you in a couple of minutes." She leaned forward and pecked his cheek. "Now on you go, get yourself some sleep and cheer up."


	10. Chapter 10

**I actually can't believe that I've managed two updates in two days.**

 **Thank you for all your reviews, they do help keep me coming back to this and keep it in my head.**

* * *

Henry rubbed away his tears with the back of his hand as the door opened, he looked up to see Will standing in the doorway. He cleared his throat awkwardly at the sign of Henry's puffy face and red rimmed eyes, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the room. "You've been away for a while, the kids were getting worried, I came out to check and the agent outside says the guy from the FBI left over twenty minutes ago." Will sat down across from him, leaning forward, his hands rubbing nervously at his knees as he stated, "Wasn't good news, I take it."

Swallowing heavily against the lump in his throat, Henry's voice was hoarse as he replied, "Bit of a mixed bag, trying to figure out how to tell the kids."

"Well I'm not an expert on talking to teenagers, but I'm happy to help you work it out if you want to run it past me."

"If the kids are already worried then maybe I should get back, wing it."

"I bumped into a couple of agents who had brought in their phones, I'm sure that will distract them long enough for us to talk." Will leaned across the table and pushed the box of tissues in Henry's direction. "You look like you could use these."

Henry grabbed one, twisting it between his fingers. "Thanks. They came to tell me the ID of the guy who shot Elizabeth."

Will's shoulders stiffened slightly. "Who was it?"

Henry's head dropped, his gaze falling away from Will's as he told him, "Guy called Ray Merchant, he was one of Elizabeth's students at Virginia, she was his academic adviser until-" He stopped abruptly, his fingers now slowly, unthinkingly, shredding the tissue as he steadied himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, " until he started harassing her."

Will inhaled sharply. "She's never mentioned it."

"No, I'm not surprised. When she first spoke to me about it she felt sorry for him. I didn't. He was always turning up to classes he wasn't signed up for, emailing her at odd hours and turning up at her office. I went to meet her after class one day, and he was there. I don't remember what he was saying to her, but I remember the look on her face, the way she held herself and that he'd managed to block her behind her desk. She looked so relieved when she saw me there." Henry looked back up into Will's face. "He wasn't of course. There was this flash of rage in his eyes and the way he tensed his jaw and clenched his fists; I didn't like it. I wanted her to report him, she felt he was just a confused kid and she didn't want to ruin his life, so she swapped his adviser instead."

"But that wasn't the end of it," Will guessed.

"No. He continued to wait at the end of her classes, kept going to her for advice that he should have gone to his new adviser for. Once or twice he'd waited for her at her car. She kept ignoring him, but then the emails changed from being about his work, he started inviting her to talks, asking her to meet him for lunch. In the end we argued about it, but she agreed that it was escalating and so she reported him and he was given a warning."

"How'd he take it?"

"He was upset, stormed off and dropped out. The Dean told me later that he kicked a chair across the room when he was told about her complaint, but he didn't try to contact her after that."

"So what changed between then and now?"

Henry took a deep breath, his eyes watering again ."When the harassment against us as a family started, we were asked if thought there was anyone in our pasts who could potentially have reason to carry it out."

"And you both named him," Will guessed.

"No, just me. Elizabeth didn't think that he would do something like that, she said that he wasn't a threat anymore, that he hadn't been for a while and that I needed to let it go. I didn't." His head fell into his hands, his fists curling to press against his forehead. "I was convinced that I'd seen something in his eyes, something dangerous and I wasn't going to let it go."

Will reached out and patted his leg."And you were right, he might not have been behind that harassment but he was clearly a threat to her."

Henry looked tormented as he looked up again, his voice a pained whisper. "But he wasn't."

Looking confused, Will asked, "I don't follow. Of course he was, he might not have been behind the harassment on that occasion, but he shot her for Christ sake!"

"Merchant was declared not to be a threat once they looked into him-"

"So the FBI, secret service; whoever looked into him got it wrong. I know the kids will be upset that this might have been prevented but-"

"Will, they didn't get it wrong," Henry interrupted, "I did. Merchant had dropped his obsession with Elizabeth until I insisted that they talk to him. He thought it was her, thought that it was a sign that she wanted to see him again. He's been following her since then, writing her letters, slipping through the damned net, getting more and more irate, thinking that she was ignoring him." Henry looked pained as he asked, "How the hell do I tell my kids that I set this lunatic onto their mother? And then not only did I restart his obsession with her, I left her standing in that park; I gave him the opportunity to approach her."

"He might have approached her anyway."

"No." Henry shook his head vehemently. "Merchant was a bully, I could see it in him. He waited until she was completely alone and I gave him that chance."

"She was separated from her security-"

"By a fluke and if I'd turned up, like I was supposed to, then I would have been on that side of the park with her and Merchant wouldn't have gotten near her."

"But eventually he would have built up to something else," Will reminded him. "He wouldn't have just let it go."

Henry continued as though Will hadn't spoken, "I caused this and I need to try and find a way to tell the kids that." He looked up at Will and told him, "You should be angry with me as well."

"Well I'm not, and even if I was considering it, you're angry enough with yourself for the both of us. Henry, I can't fix this for you, I can't take the guilt and the anger away, but I'm not going to help you torture yourself. You saw a threat in him and you acted to protect Elizabeth, to protect your family."

"I got it wrong, if I'd just listened to her and left it in the past-"

"Ok, so Elizabeth was right on this one," Will admitted, interrupting him. "But your reasoning, your motives were sound and you need to remind yourself that when you made that call you made it because you wanted to keep her safe. The kids will understand that. He wouldn't have just gone away if you'd made it to the park today."

Henry looked away, he didn't have the energy to argue, it was all taken up in the heavy ball of dread that sat low in his stomach. A few more days or a week and those letters would have flagged with the service. No matter what Will said, he had set this chain of events in motion. And no matter what, he couldn't shake the image of Merchant that day in Elizabeth's lecture hall, looming over his wife, or the image of her covered in blood, lying in a hospital bed. He jerked as Will's hand clapped his shoulder, surprised to see that he was now standing, and he belated realised that he'd been speaking.

Will beckoned his brother in law with his hand. "Come on, the kids are waiting on you. I'll be right with there with you."

His head and heart heavy, Henry got to his feet, forcing himself to leave the room.

* * *

Alison eyed her brother and sister nervously, checking they were both busy. Stevie was still half flicking through a magazine and half checking her phone, occasionally typing something out and then deleting it and shaking her head. Jason meanwhile was engrossed in his phone. She turned her attention back to her own phone screen and hesitated for a moment before she typed. Her thumb quickly turned down the volume as she clicked on the video link.

She knew it was odd but she had to see the video, the compulsion hadn't left her all day. She wanted to know what had happened to her Mom, she had to understand how this could have happened in a public place.

The video itself was slightly hazy at first before it moved into sharper focus. She could make out her Mom standing, watching a group of runners as they went past. Alison could see a man approaching her, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, steeling herself. Something made her Mom turn and then- Alison tried not to jump in her seat. She hadn't even seen the gun. Just her Mom giving an odd jerk before she fell backwards onto the grass. The video blurred again, but she could still see her Mom lying on the grass; alone.

She chewed on her nail as she quickly came out of the video and opened something innocuous instead. She shouldn't have watched it she told herself; it hadn't helped any.

* * *

Susan stood awkwardly by the low wrought iron fence that separated her front garden from that of her neighbours. Next door's front grass was cluttered with secret service agents, who all looked much more forbidding than usual. She saw one spot her and he moved swiftly in her direction, "Can I help you Ma'am?"

Gripping the letter slightly tighter in her grip, Susan gave a nervous nod as she held it out. "Yes, look I know this might seem trivial today, but this letter was mixed in with ours, I just wanted to hand it over."

Agent Raynis took the proffered note and glanced down at the smudged handwritten envelope, his heart beating ever so slightly quicker. This was exactly what they had been told to look out for. "Did this just arrive today?" He asked.

"I don't know. We've been away on holiday for two weeks, we've only just gotten back, it was in the pile that was waiting for us behind the door."

"Was it the only one?"

"Yes, the three looks like a five, so I think the mailman got confused." Susan glanced over his shoulder and saw that some of the agents were beginning to disperse into cars. "Is everything ok?"

"Fine Ma'am, the area has been secured now. Normal security levels will be resumed."

"Oh, that's good I guess." She looked back at him. "How is Elizabeth? I suppose I should call her the Secretary of State just now."

"We know the same as everyone else Ma'am, she's in theatre."

"Right. Well," Susan wrapped her arms around herself, "I'm a bit jet lagged so I might just get back inside and put my head down."

"Sleep well, Ma'am." Agent Raynis gestured down at the letter and added, "And thank you once again for bringing this so swiftly to our attention."

He watched her return to her home, letting the door slam shut before he reached for his radio, calling for the Agent in charge of the scene.

* * *

Jason had never seen his Dad look so awful, his jaw was tense, the tendons in his neck straining slightly against his skin as his hands shook from nerves and his voice was dry and hoarse. "Who wanted to speak to you, Dad?" he asked nervously. "Was it the doctors?"

Stevie blinked back tears as she added, "Did they have news about Mom?"

"No, it was the director from the FBI. He had some news about the man that hurt your Mom."

"Did he tell you why he did it?" Jason asked.

"Was it political?" Stevie added. "Did Mom push a policy he didn't agree with?"

"Yeah, I mean that would make some sense I suppose,"Jason mused out loud. "Although honestly I don't think her policies are that bad."

"I'm going to tell her you said that next time you go on about the corruption of the current government," Stevie reminded him, a teasing smile on her face.

"I said they weren't that bad, I didn't say they were good-"

"Oh my God! Shut up!" Alison snapped at her siblings. "Dad what did they say?"

Henry rubbed at his forehead. "The man who did this, your Mom knew him; he was a student of hers."

Alison looked confused. "But Mom hasn't been teaching for over two years, why would he hurt her now?"

"Yeah, that's a long time to hold a grudge over a bad grade," Jason commented, slightly stung that his Dad hadn't called Alison out on for screeching at him.

"Don't be glib," his Uncle Will warned him.

Henry shot his brother in law a grateful look before continuing, telling his children, "It wasn't about grades. He had an obsession with your Mom that started when she was his academic adviser. When she made an official complaint, he dropped out."

Alison couldn't help but replay the image of that man approaching her Mom. "But why now? You and Mom have never mentioned him before, if he was obsessed then surely we would have heard something from him?"

"A few months ago, I put his name forward to be considered as someone who might have carried out the security attacks on us as a family," Henry admitted. "And they questioned him. He thought it was your Mom and he took it as a sign she wanted him to get back in touch."

"Did Mom want him questioned?" Alison asked, perplexed at her Dad's choice of words.

"Of course she would," Stevie cut in quickly. "She wouldn't put up with that kind of behaviour."

"She didn't think it was him," Henry told them, his voice thick. "She didn't want him looked into, I did."

Any reply any of the room's occupants could make was cut off by a knock at the door and Pete looked into the room. "Dr McCord, the surgeon is here to speak to you, would you like a private room?"

"Dad, you promised we could hear everything," Alison reminded him, an edge to her tone. He looked at Stevie and Jason and saw that they too were looking at him desperately.

"We've all waited long enough," Henry replied after a brief moment of hesitation. "We can talk in here."

"Yes, Sir." Pete stepped out of the way, pushing the door wider as he did so, letting an older man in scrubs into the room, accompanied by a nurse.

He held out his hand to Henry. "I'm Dr Charles Reynolds I operated on the Secretary today."

"Elizabeth," Henry corrected automatically as he shook his hand. "And is she ok?"

"She's out of surgery and stable, we've carried out a CT scan and we can confirm that there was no damage to Elizabeth's spinal cord from the bullet," Charles reassured them.

"Oh thank God," Henry breathed out, aware of the relief that emanated off everyone else as well.

Charles' smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "It was a very difficult procedure, Elizabeth lost a lot of blood-"

"But you said she was stable," Jason interrupted.

Henry turned to his son. "Jase, I know it's tough but I need you to let the Doctor talk, we can't interrupt him."

Charles waited a moment before speaking again. "Elizabeth lost a lot of blood before we were able to start the operation and unfortunately she suffered from a cardiac arrest on the operating table. We were able to resuscitate her, but due to the level of damage not as quickly as we would have hoped. Elizabeth's brain would have went without oxygen for the duration of this-"

"How long?" Will cut in.

"Approximately five minutes."

"What does that mean?" Henry asked. "You said she was stable?"

"She is, but there is a risk that the time she went without oxygen may have caused some brain damage. When we took her to CT we also carried out a scan of her brain and the initial results of that are promising but not conclusive."

Henry felt as though his brain was swimming in molasses. "I don't understand, it sounds as though the scan didn't show any damage."

Will's hand landed on his shoulder. "Henry, sometimes the damage doesn't show right away. It can take the cells time to die and that can't always be seen until later."

"That's correct," Charles admitted. "We won't know if there has been damage or how extensive it is until Elizabeth regains consciousness."

"And how long will that be?"

"We're going to keep her ventilated and sedated overnight to let her rest after surgery, we don't want to overwork her lungs. Our hope is that tomorrow we'll be able to withdraw this and take her off the machines. She'll be sleepy to begin with but we hope to carry out further assessment then. However, Dr McCord I have to be honest with you, there is a small risk that dependant on the placement and severity of any damage that Elizabeth may not regain consciousness."

Henry shook his head. "No, she came through the surgery, she'll wake up," he replied hoarsely.

"That's our hope." Dr Reynolds looked between the shell shocked family. "I'm happy to answer any questions you might have." There was a beat of silence and he realised that no one was going to be able to speak and so he concluded, "The nursing staff are making Elizabeth comfortable and once they have her settled then you can see her."

Realising that his brother in law had slowly sunk back into his seat, a look of shock and bewilderment on his face, it was Will who stepped in. "Thank you Dr Reynolds. If we think of anything we want to ask then we'll run it past the ITU staff."

"Of course." Charles gave Henry a worried glance before he left the room.

The family sat in silence for a moment, before Alison asked, "Why was Mom alone at the park?"

Stevie looked at her sister in disbelief. "Does that really matter right now."

"If it didn't I wouldn't ask." She looked wildly across at her Dad, stepping forward. "Mom never goes there by herself, that's your spot, you always go together. So why was Mom alone?"

Henry met her gaze, his expression guilt ridden. "I lost track of time, I phoned her just before to tell her I wasn't going to be able to make it."

"It's your fault," Alison told him, her voice quiet at first, growing in volume and anger as she shouted it, "It's your fault!"

"Alison, stop!" Stevie told her.

"No! It is, you heard him, this guy went after Mom because he sent the FBI after him, on a wild goose chase! If you hadn't done that he wouldn't have been looking for her! And then you left her alone!" Alison was sobbing now, rubbing at her face with her sleeve. "You left her alone! She shouldn't have been by herself!"

Henry stood, reaching out to his daughter. "Aly, I know and I'm so sorry if I could change anything-"

"Don't touch me!" Alison dodged his grasp. "Mom might not wake up and it's your fault!" She levelled her finger at him. "It's your fault and I hate you!" she shrieked, before running from the room.

Henry swayed on his feet. "She doesn't mean it," he heard Stevie reassure him. "I'll go and speak to her."

"Stevie, I'll go," Will told her. "You stay with your Dad."

Blake cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll um...go and get more coffee, or juice, or something."

Henry watched as Will and Blake left the room, but all he could do was stand there and think that his middle daughter had got it right. It was his fault.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for all of your reviews.**

 **I probably won't have another update for at least a few days, so I hope this one tides you all over until then.**

* * *

Stevie chewed her bottom lip nervously as she watched her Dad sink back into his seat, cradling his head in his hands. She exchanged a worried glance with Jason. Their parents had always protected them, had very rarely shown that they were upset by something and if they had they had always countered it with a reassuring smile and some comforting words. Even when their Mom had been caught up in the explosion in Tamerlane, her Dad for the most part had held it together and hadn't shown just how worried he'd been until the news that she was safe had reached them. So now, to see him so upset, so on edge was unnerving. "Dad, Aly wouldn't have meant it. She's just upset."

"Yeah," Jason agreed. "You know what she's like, she's always been over the top."

Stevie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her brother's words, whilst Alison's words had been cruel and ill thought out, their Mom was seriously ill, so she couldn't exactly say that her reaction was over the top. She sat down next to her Dad and turned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "We don't blame you, and Alison doesn't either, not really."

Jason hung awkwardly at the side, unsure just how he should deal with this until Stevie looked up at him, glaring at him and nodding her head to the other side of their Dad. He took the hint and rushed to the seat, raising his hand to awkwardly pat his Dad's shoulder. "Stevie's right, and you know I hate to say that, but we don't blame you."

Henry wiped an eye with his sleeve as he lifted his head. "I just wanted to keep you and your Mom safe."

"We know and so does Alison, she'll calm down Dad." Stevie gave an irate sigh, giving her head an irritable shake. "She shouldn't have said that to you."

Pulling himself upright, Henry wrapped his arms around his two children and pulled them in close to him. He had to pull it together just now, for them. He kissed the top of Stevie's head. "Don't be annoyed at your sister. I let your Mom down today and I know it. She's allowed to be angry and upset about it."

"She doesn't need to be a bitch about it though," Jason muttered.

"Jason! What did I just say?" Henry asked, exasperated.

"Dad, we're all angry and upset," Jason argued, "but she can't just go around screaming at folk."

"We all deal with things in different ways. Alison can't hide her feelings."

"She could at least try," Jason grumbled.

"Not just now she shouldn't." Henry looked between his kids. "Look, we can't pretend that this hasn't happened, and we all need to deal with our feelings. I don't want any of you hiding your feelings, even if that means that you're angry with me. I don't know what's ahead of us, you heard the Doctor, there aren't any guarantees."

"I know," Stevie told him. "But Mom would want us to stick together, just like she and Will did." She stared meaningfully at Jason as she added, "And that's what we'll do and when Alison comes back we'll sort this all out. Don't worry Dad."

Henry held his children that little bit tighter at Stevie's words. "I'm proud of you, of all three of you," he told them, feeling even Jason relaxing into his hug. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. He couldn't be angry at Alison, she was only saying what he was thinking, what he couldn't stop himself from thinking. For a moment he had felt pure relief at the doctor's words, at the thought that Elizabeth had come through this, that he could hold her again and tell her how sorry he was. Then had came the body blow. He could barely bring himself to think of it, of his brilliant, quick witted, effervescent wife being left brain damaged, or never waking up. How would any of the three of his children, really be able to look at Elizabeth and not hate him for what he'd done? He could feel the tears building behind his eyes again and he pressed a kiss to their hair in turn, making the most of having them close to him.

* * *

Will didn't need to go far to find Alison, she was near the coffee machines in the atrium, curled up in the corner of a group of seats, her knees pulled up to her chest, her forehead on her knees. The Agent lingering only a few feet away from her was also, admittedly, quite the giveaway. As he got closer, he could hear her crying and sniffing. He sat down next to her, saw her head turn ever so slightly, checking who it was, before she turned her face back into her knees. "I suppose you've come to tell me off?" she mumbled.

"Nope, just came to check you were alright," he replied.

Alison turned her face back towards her Uncle. "You're not angry with me?"

"Why would I be angry with you?"

"Because of what I said to my Dad."

"Ah." Will gave her a considered look. "What do you think about you said?"

Rolling her eyes, Alison rested her chin on her knees, giving a loud sniff. "You're trying to guilt me into feeling bad about it. Well I don't," she declared firmly. "It's his fault."

Will leaned back in his chair. "You know when your grandparents died, there was a few times that I blamed your Mom."

"You did? Why?"

"Because I thought that maybe if she'd come with us, then we'd have had to wait on her, that we would have the left the house a few minutes later and not gotten into the accident." Will stared off into the middle distance, his face falling into a frown as he forced himself to go back to a time and place that usually he did his upmost to forget. "Or that maybe if she'd been there, then she might have been able to save our Mom, she was older, she was so smart; I thought that maybe she'd have been able to do something. I wasn't able to do anything, just had to watch her die."

Alison gave a sniff, her voice small, quiet as she replied, "I thought Gran died right away."

"That's what I told everyone, including your Mom, only told her the truth last year."

"Why'd you hide it from her?"

"I'd like to say that I was trying to protect her, but really I was worried that she'd be angry at me, that she'd blame me for not saving her. I know now that I couldn't have, there was nothing I could have done in those few minutes; not even now, with years of medical training, that would have changed the outcome." He met Alison's gaze. "And all having your Mom there would have done is put her in danger and I might have lost her as well."

"So, you think that if Dad had been there, he would have been hurt as well?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But maybe."

Alison gave a tut of annoyance. "Or maybe that guy wouldn't have come anywhere near my Mom." She glared at her Uncle. "My Dad was the one who poked the bear, and then he couldn't even be bothered to turn up for her."

"Time got away from him; it happens."

"He left her standing there all alone," Alison continued as though he hadn't spoken. "He left her there and that man was able to just walk right up to her. And then she was just lying there, all alone. She must have been so scared.

A frown flickered momentarily across Will's face. "You sound like you know a lot more about it than I do."

Alison looked at him guiltily, pulling her knees in even closer to herself. "I watched the video," she admitted quietly. "The one on the internet."

"Yeah, I guessed as much." Will looked at her in confusion. "What I don't get is why."

"I suppose that I wanted to know what had happened. Wanted to know how it could happen. Mom is meant to be one of the most protected people in this country and yet someone shot her!" She looked at him almost wildly, her voice going up an octave. "I couldn't understand how it could happen." She shook her head. "I still don't," she admitted. "But that guy, he waited, he waited until she was alone. Uncle Will, he could have pulled his gun and shot her from further away, from across the path, but he didn't. He waited until she was alone, and she was alone because of Dad. I don't understand why you aren't angry with him."

"Because he wasn't the one with the gun."

"Euch, that's such a redundant argument."

"Is it? Why?"

Alison threw her hands upwards in frustration. "Just because you don't fire the bullet, doesn't absolve you of any responsibility. If Dad hadn't mentioned him to the FBI then he wouldn't have went looking for Mom, he said it himself. You should be angry with him."

"Your Dad made the call he thought was the right one at the time. We have hindsight, we know what that decision led to know, and at some point, we'll know every little thing along the way that went wrong and led your Mom to that moment; because it wasn't just your Dad. Alison, all we can ever do is look at the facts and make a calm, rational decision based on them."

"Do you think my Dad thought it through? When he handed over that name."

"I think he thought it through as much as he could at the time."

"So, no." Alison scowled at her Uncle. "He wasn't calm, and he wasn't rational. He put Mom in danger." Her eyes filled with tears again. "Mom might not wake up, she might be brain damaged. I don't even know what that might mean," Alison admitted quietly.

"It could mean a lot of things," Will told her. "She might have some problems with her memory, or her speech. She might not be able to move as well as she did before, or she might have some personality changes. It just depends."

"Can she get better?"

"Again, it depends on what the damage is and where. There's some really good rehabilitation programmes out there now."

"But she might not be like my Mom."

"Maybe not," Will admitted.

"Then why aren't you angry?"

"It would be easy for me to be angry with your Dad, but I learned, not that long ago, that holding onto that anger just makes everything harder. I know it might look to you like I'm too calm and you might think that that means I don't care enough, but I promise you that I do." Will's fists curled inward on themselves as he spoke. "For so many years your Mom was all I had. She came to my college graduation, travelled miles for it and insisted on taking me for a fancy meal, because that's what you did. Even though she and your Dad were ridiculously poor at the time, she made sure that we celebrated in style. She always turned up; she was always there, even when I tried to push her away. To think that that person might not be there anymore, it hurts; I know that, I feel it. But anger isn't going to help. Alison, your Dad is angry at himself, and he is going to have to live with the consequences of this for the rest of his life. Even if your Mom comes through this, he will always feel responsible, so what good does me losing my temper do anyone?"

Alison gave a soft sigh. "I suppose it doesn't help, not really." She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I know that my Dad loves Mom, you'd have to be blind not to see that; I know that he didn't want her to get hurt. But how do I stop being angry at him?"

"Well…you've let it out, that's part of it. So now you go, and you hear his side of it."

"What if his side of it makes me feel worse?"

"Then you give him a hug and you think about what your Mom would want, because what she'd want is you standing together as a family. I can promise you that and eventually that anger you feel towards him, it will go away."

"You promise?"

"Yes. You love your Dad. You might still feel angry, but you can channel that into something else, something productive. Now are you ready to go back?"

Alison wiped at her eyes again. "Not yet."

"Ok, so how about a chocolate bar and a can of juice out the vending machine?"

Giving her Uncle a smile, she nodded, "Yeah, but we can't be long. I don't want to miss them telling us we can see Mom."

* * *

Kevin tutted as he read the contents of the letter that had been handed to him. "If only we'd gotten this this morning."

"Yeah, ironically the neighbour's flight was delayed. Twelve hours."

"Fuck sake," Kevin hissed angrily. "This has been a comedy of errors, except no-one's laughing." He glared at the letter again. "It's one hell of a change of tone from the first letter. Three pages of rambling hate, spewed out onto paper" He ran his finger down the first page, reading aloud from it, "You constantly ignore me, ignore all my attempts to contact you and instead you strut around, knowing the hold you have on me and relishing it. I won't stand for this Elizabeth."

"Guy's a charmer."

"I'm going to give you one last warning; you need to talk to me, or I will lose my temper and you will regret how you've treated me. I let you make a fool of me and walked away once before. I won't this time, this time I will make you pay, I'll make you suffer and wish you'd never laid eyes on me. I'm done playing games."

"That sounds like pre-meditation, Sir."

"Most definitely." He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "He still talking?"

"Singing like a canary. Told us how he got the gun, how often he followed her. Guy's lawyer looks as though he wants the ground to swallow him whole."

"I bet he does. Any sign of the first four letters?"

"Based on the dates we think we might have the very first one he sent. Admin worker found it about a half an hour ago, handed it over when his name flagged up on the alert we put out. It's on its way across to us just now."

"Good." Kevin ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to walk down to interrogation. Think it's about time that we charged this Bastard."


	12. Chapter 12

Alison felt as though her heart had taken up resident in her mouth as she and Will approached the relative's room, her pace slowing. She felt her Uncle's hand press lightly on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I'm nervous. What if he's angry with me?"

"He won't be," Will replied simply. "He's too angry with himself."

"Stevie and Jason will be though."

"They'll get over it but believe me if you leave it then it'll just feel worse later."

"Ok." Alison nodded. "I'm ready."

"Let's go then." With that Will pushed open the door to the waiting room, his hand staying on Alison's shoulder, a silent sign of support.

Henry stood the moment he saw them, stepping forward, his arms lifting slightly as he moved to hug her. Unthinkingly, Alison took a step back, on seeing this his arms dropped, and he stood awkwardly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he caught himself. "Aly, I'm so glad to see you."

Alison nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Dad, I'm sorry about what I said."

"Oh Noodle, you don't have to be. It was my fault and I'm so sorry."

Staring at the look of desperation on her Dad's crumpled face, Alison remembered her conversation with Will and took in a deep breath. Her anger hadn't completely gone, but maybe her Uncle had been right, maybe she needed to focus it elsewhere. "I shouldn't have said it was your fault, that wasn't fair of me." She told him, her eyes beginning to tear, her voice cracking slightly as she admitted, "I was just really upset about Mom." She brought her eyes up and met his, "I really am sorry, Dad."

As she broke down in tears, Henry's feet unstuck themselves from the linoleum and he propelled himself forward, gathering his youngest daughter into a hug. "Don't be sorry," he told her again. "I don't want you to hide how you feel."

"I know, but what I said was just mean." It was as though the floodgates had opened and the words rushed out of her. "I was upset about Mom, and I had just watched that stupid video and it was all I could see. Just him...that man-" She shook her head, stuttering slightly before she continued, "And I was so angry that he had hurt her and then what the Doctor said about Mom just made it worse…" Her tears fell quicker now, her breath coming in harsh, loud sobs. "It was easier to blame you because I can't shout at him. I can't do anything!"

"I know Noodle. Henry tightened his hug, kissing the side of her hair. "But why would you watch that video?" He asked, perplexed. Out of all his children, he would have guessed Jason would have been the one to find it, to watch it and find a way to tie it into one of his government conspiracy theories; he would never have thought it of Alison.

"I don't even know anymore, I just wanted to know what had happened, I wanted to understand why and how someone could do that to her!" She gave a sniff as she admitted, "it didn't help."

"No, I don't imagine it would." He stepped ever so slightly back and looked down at her. "I promised you that I would be honest with you and I will be, no matter how difficult I might find it. If there's something you want to know, that any of you want to know, then you just need to ask."

"Ok." Alison glanced up and over at her siblings.

She saw Stevie give a small shake of her head. "Oh Aly, when are you going to learn not to check the internet for every little thing," she said despairingly, but she crossed the room anyway, giving her younger sister a hug.

Jason hung back before his Dad gave him an encouraging nod. He rolled his eyes before finally telling Alison, "I suppose I owe you one for putting up with my outburst earlier." He let his Dad pull him into what was now a group hug.

"Thanks guys," Alison told them, a relieved smile crossing her face.

There was a knock at the door and the family pulled apart, as a nurse stepped into the room. She gave them all a warm, reassuring smile. "I'm the nurse in charge this shift." We've settled Elizabeth into a private room and we're happy for you to sit with her. While normally our limit for visitors is two, we can let you go in three at a time initially."

"But we've been waiting for ages," Jason protested.

"Jason, don't interrupt," Henry cut in firmly. "This is a hospital, there's rules."

"I understand it's frustrating," she replied smoothly to Jason, "but there's a lot of machines and tubes and your Mom needs a nurse with her at all times, so we have to limit how many people are in a room. We also have a lot of other very unwell patients and we can't have large numbers around every bed, we have to be fair."

"We understand that," Henry told her. "We'll split into groups."

"Good. Once you're ready, just press the buzzer into the ward and our clerkess will let you in." With that she stepped back out of the room.

Henry looked at his three kids. "Ok, so two of you can come in with me and one of you with your Uncle Will and Blake."

Blake looked up and gave a shake of his head. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think that she'd want me to see her like that. I just wanted to know that she was ok and the others will want to know how she is." He got to his feet, looking slightly awkward. "Also, it means that you can stay in with Dr McCord and she'd definitely want that."

"Are you sure?" Henry asked.

"Absolutely." If he was honest, he wasn't sure he was ready to see the Secretary, not like that. "I've been away so long that I'm surprised Nadine hasn't sent one of the junior staffers in to drag me out by my hair," he quipped weakly.

Henry gave a nod. "Well you're welcome anytime you're ready."

"Thank you."

Stevie gave him a quick hug. "Don't know why you're thanking us, you're the one that went for the hot chocolate," she teased.

"Anytime. If you need anything at all, just let me know. I get the feeling I'll be in the office pretty late." He gave them all a small smile before he slipped from the room.

Henry looked at Alison and asked her, "Do you want to come in with me Noodle?"

Alison shook her head. "I'd rather go in with Uncle Will, if that's ok?" She didn't want to hurt her Dad again but she felt that her Uncle understood her feelings more right now, and she was worried that when she saw her Mom, that she'd feel that irrational anger towards her Dad again; that she'd lash out.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Henry managed a small, comforting smile, "Of course it's ok." He looked across at Stevie and Jason and told them, "You two ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Stevie told him, giving Jason's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

* * *

"Tell us one last time what happened today at the Park, Ray?"

Ray sighed. "I went to speak to her, I just wanted to talk, but she was dismissive of me."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"She did." He tipped his chair slightly on its legs and his left hand momentarily flexed. "She told me I shouldn't have come to the park, that I should have waited until she got in touch with me. I didn't want to be dismissed by her again, it had happened before; wasn't letting it happen again."

The last letter, encased in a plastic slip, was pushed across the table to Ray as he was asked, "Want to tell us a bit more about this?"

Ray's eyes scanned it briefly and he gave a casual shrug. "What is there to tell? I sent it, I warned her and when she didn't listen, I followed it through." He gave a humourless smile. "I'm a man of my word."

"We haven't located all of your letters yet, but we have this one, along with the first letter you sent to Secretary McCord's home. There's quite the change in tone."

"I got tired of fawning to her, of paying lip service. She started this."

"You said, but how do you know that?"

A brief frown flickered across Ray's features before his face settled back into an impassive mask. "The FBI agents, they questioned me about her. They wouldn't have done that unless she had asked them to. Anyway," he waved a dismissive hand, "That's her MO, she flashes that disarming smile just so she can lead you astray, play with you."

"Ray, it wasn't Secretary McCord who asked us to investigate you. It was her husband."

He chuckled. "No, it wasn't. I'm sure she'd want you to think that. When she asked you to look into me, I'm sure she smiled and simpered that it was her husband who was so worried about her." He almost spat the last words at them.

Neither Agent flinched, one of them instead told him bluntly, "She didn't want you spoken to at all. Dr McCord wanted you questioned in line with an investigation of harassment against the family. You know what the Secretary said? That you weren't a threat, that you had been a confused, mixed up kid and she thought that you should be left alone."

Ray blinked a few times, giving some small shakes of his head. "No, no. She wanted to send me a message…" He then collected himself and suddenly smiled confidently as he said, "You're lying. If she hadn't wanted me to contact her then she would have reported the letters to you, you would have picked me up long before now."

"And I'm sure if she'd received any of your letters, she would have reported them. C'mon Ray, you think that the Secretary's mail isn't scanned and checked before it goes to her? She didn't see anything you wrote to her. After some searching we've found the very first letter you sent to her office, still waiting to be checked. We think that the other three are somewhere in the bowels of the State Department."

"But you clearly have the ones I sent to her home."

"Yeah, we do." He tapped the first letter. "This one was written of as an overzealous fan letter. Whereas this one, this one didn't even reach us." He showed him the envelope, pointing out, "Your penmanship needs some work, mailman delivered it to a neighbour. Because believe me if we had seen this then you'd have been thrown in a cell so fast your head would've spun, but unfortunately this didn't reach us until after your trip to the park today."

"That can't be true, you're lying."

"No, but you definitely are. You told us that you went there to talk to her, that you only took the gun to make her listen to you. Your story is that she tried to send you away, but you know what Ray? That doesn't fit with any of the evidence."

"Evidence that you're making up," he insisted, his eyes started to blaze.

"We haven't made any of it up, but you have. Secretary McCord didn't ask the FBI to look into you, her husband did. She also didn't see any of the letters you sent her, so she didn't have a clue that you were following her or that you were trying to make contact. You told us, more than once, that she spoke to you, that that's what made you fire the gun. But this letter tells us otherwise. It tells us that you went there planning to hurt her, that's why you had the gun." He clicked the video player at the side on, his finger tapping the screen. "You didn't give her time to say anything to you. She turns and you give her three seconds, and you know what you do in those three seconds Ray? You raise your gun. You can see it clear as day. She didn't dismiss you, in fact your first story made more sense, that she looked at you like she didn't know you. Because you didn't give her the chance to recognise you and she sure as hell didn't expect you there."

Ray pressed his closed fists against his forehead. "You're lying," he repeated.

"This letter shows that you wanted to hurt her, it proves pre-meditation." He closed over his file and stated firmly, "Raymond Merchant, you are being charged with the attempted murder of the Secretary of State Elizabeth McCord-"

Interrupting, Ray spoke over the charges. "Attempted? She's alive? No, I saw her, I saw the blood."

His shouts were ignored as the Agents finished reading the charges and pushed themselves to their feet, ready to take him back to his cell.

* * *

Henry took a deep breath as the DS agent led him, Stevie and Jason down the ward. He could see Jason walking stiffly beside him, his shoulders tense. "You ok there Bud? I know this is scary."

"Just not sure what to expect."

Flashing back to when he'd seen her lying in the emergency room, Henry told him, "A lot of tubes, your Mom, she might not look like herself and I won't think any less of you if you decide that you can't go through with this."

Jason pulled back his shoulders. "I want to see her."

"Ok." They came up to a room sequestered at the bottom corner of the ward, DS Agents flanking it's walls, a nurse at a small table sitting just inside the doorway; alternating between watching the bed and scribbling on some paperwork. Henry walked in first, his breath catching at the sight of Elizabeth. The bedsheets were glaringly white and she was so ashen she almost matched them. The ventilator hissed behind her head, tubing sprouting out of it before finally culminating in a tube at her mouth, held in place by a thin white ribbon. He took a step closer, there were blood and clear fluids on a stand, running down to a line in her neck and he could see the black stitches that held it in place." His knee almost knocked a box, filled with reddish, murky liquid that was clipped onto the bed.

"Chest drain," the nurse told him.

"Right," he murmured. He looked at his wife's face, relieved to see that the blood had been cleaned from her. The only evidence left behind was small flecks that were ingrained around her nail beds. He exhaled loudly. His wife wasn't a small woman, she was slight but she was taller than everyone thought and yet she looked tiny and fragile lying in that bed. His attention was caught by the sound of Stevie sniffling behind him.

"Can she hear us?" Jason asked, his eyes wide as he looked from the bed to the nurse.

She gave a soft smile, her head tilting. "We're not sure," she admitted. "She's heavily sedated so that she doesn't fight against the ventilator, and some of the medications we give to keep her comfortable have an amnesiac effect. So, we can't check, but you can talk to her, if she can hear you then I'm sure it will bring her some comfort."

Jason nodded and then admitted, "I don't know what to say."

"That's ok, nobody does at first."

It was Stevie who stepped forward, taking Elizabeth's hand into hers. Her movements slow and awkward as she worked to avoid the multitude of tubes. "Mom, it's ok we're here now." She sniffed but wasn't quite able to stop one lone tear from running down her cheek. "And Alison's just outside with Uncle Will, so someone will be with you whenever we're allowed. Isn't that right Dad?" She looked up at Henry, her eyes wide.

"That's right," His hand reached out to slip Elizabeth's hand out of their daughter's and hold it in his own, bringing it up to his mouth, kissing it lightly as he told her, ""I'm not going anywhere, I promise."


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for all your reviews. Here is the actual 13th chapter.**

 **Brendalwood: I was really surprised to find out that Tea Leoni is 5ft 7, I** **genuinely thought that she was about 5ft 3.**

* * *

As the door to his office clicked opened without warning, Conrad intuitively knew who was barging in, because there was only one man with the nerve to stomp in and out whenever pleased him. "I take it you have news?" He asked, not looking up from the paperwork in front of him.

Russell dropped heavily onto the sofa in the middle of the room, pulling at his suit jacket agitatedly. "I do. Just had an update from Director Doherty."

Conrad looked up, his eyes narrowing. "And?"

"They've charged Mr Merchant with attempted murder. They've also located the second letter that he sent to the McCord's home and from what I've heard we don't need to worry about proving pre-meditation."

"Good. Where was it?" Conrad sent him a warning glare and added, "Please don't tell me that the secret service had it all this time?"

"No, thankfully. Turns out it was delivered to the neighbour by mistake." He gave a humourless laugh. "They were on holiday, got back this afternoon. Would have been back last night had their flight not been delayed." He gave a shake of his head. "If we'd got this just a few hours earlier then we would have had her under a strict security protocol until we'd investigated Merchant. There but for the grace," he muttered.

"Quite. One positive is that this wasn't our mistake, it's one thing the media can't pin on us."

"Oh I'm sure they'll find a way and there's enough there to spin it."

"Just tell me that he's going to be mentally fit to stand trial."

"Director's pretty confident, he's spoken to the state attorney. Merchant was reviewed by a medical doctor and a psychiatrist after he decided to take a nap on the interrogation room table. No diagnosis of any mental health illnesses in his medical history, even though he was strung out on Valium when he fired the gun, hence the nap."

"Where did he get that from?"

"They found some in his pockets, apparently that particular mix has been doing the rounds on the streets. DC police have been looking into it for weeks, trying to find the source."

"I want to make it clear that I don't care if he has any information on how this drug is getting onto our streets, he's not getting a deal."

"Don't worry, I don't think that he's a dealer, the search at his flat didn't turn up anything else; think he just indulges."

"And the fact that he was under the influence won't affect the case?"

"Doubt it, considering that he says he took it only five or minute before just to steady his aim." Russell leaned his head back, rolling his neck and wincing as it cracked. "We know he planned it and the timing from the tape leaked to the media gives us a visual, which proves that he didn't give her anytime to react or say anything to him. Guy's unstable, definitely, but nothing that would stop him from standing trial. That's not what we need to worry about. What we need to worry about is the optics."

Conrad raised an eyebrow. "The optics? I would think the media will be on our side with this one. Bess has always been popular, both at home and abroad."

"She is," Russell admitted. "But there's room for this to be twisted into something sleazy. He was her student."

"You think they'll make it look like an affair gone wrong?"

"It's a possibility, we'll need to be careful with the narrative, because if I was Merchant's defence that's exactly what I'd claim." He sighed, eyeing Conrad carefully before pitching his next idea. "We could cut him off at the pass."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like what you're about to suggest."

"Because I want us to suggest taking the death penalty off the table for a guilty plea, give the guy life in prison instead."

"You said yourself that the evidence is conclusive, I don't think we need to beg for that plea."

"I'm not suggested begging, but I think we should consider it."

"You want to be the one to suggest it to Henry McCord?"

"Last I checked he wasn't particularly pro death penalty anyway."

"Something that might change given current circumstances."

"This could stop a lot of unwanted scrutiny into the family. They have enough stress, they don't need this on top."

Conrad sat back in his chair, his fingers interlinking as he thought it through. "Float it to him," he finally replied. "But I don't think it will go down well."

"Yeah, well that's my cross to bear." Russell tiredly rubbed at his eyes. "While we're on subjects that could get me balled out of this room, I think we should get out in front of this balls up by the FBI."

"By doing what?"

"Being open and honest about it."

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Conrad remarked, "I'm beginning to wonder if you're feeling alright. Shouldn't you be finding a way to spin this?"

"There is no spinning this. There has to be an enquiry into how Merchant's name didn't reach the secret service and we're not going to be able to hide that. Even if we can persuade Merchant to take a plea deal, the facts about his threatening Elizabeth are going to be out there. Christ sake her agents intercepted one letter from him and did nothing about it, if we don't put that into context then we risk making the service look weak and that's the last thing we need; to look as though we have ineffective personal security!" He let out a deep, annoyed breath after his rant. "Sir, the FBI needs to take the flack, they can absorb it and to be perfectly honest I don't think the secret service can, not after today. He didn't make that shot from a distance, he walked right up to her and if we add any on more incompetency then-" He threw up his hands in exasperation. "We may as well start planning for a new service right now, because they won't have any public standing."

Giving a thoughtful sigh, Conrad drummed his finger against his desk. "You think admitting that the FBI made a mistake is the best way to go?"

"I hate to say it, but yes."

"Ok then, put together a press conference."

"Of course. I was thinking about using Elizabeth's staff rather than ours, adds more of a personal touch. We bring Doherty on-board, announce the arrest and he slides in about the enquiry."

"Think you can get him on board?"

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll agree," Russell grumbled.

"Well I'll leave you to that one."

"I'll get onto it."

Conrad was surprised to see that Russell didn't leap to his feet and rush from the room in a whirl of energy, instead clearing his throat and if anything, looking more uncomfortable. "Why do I get the feeling you have something else to drop on me?"

"Because I do. It wasn't just the FBI who updated me."

"The hospital?"

He gave a nod. "Yeah. I got permission from Henry for them to give me any updates once they'd spoken to him and they made contact a few minutes ago. Elizabeth is out of surgery."

"Well that's good news, surely."

"She's stable, but there were complications."

"What kind of complications?"

"Elizabeth's heart stopped before surgery, it took some time to get her back. There could be some damage from that."

"What exactly do you mean by damage?"

"Brain damage," Russel clarified. "She's going to be kept sedated and ventilated overnight, so soonest we'll have any indication of potential recovery will be tomorrow."

"Hell," Conrad sighed softly, slumping back in his chair. He couldn't picture Bess in any other way than what she was just now, clever, stubborn and competent.

"Yeah, not the news any of us were hoping for." Russell glanced over at the President. "She could still make a full recovery."

"Let's hope."

He waved a hand across himself. "Look at me, I shouldn't have had good odds and here I am."

"That's true. Although I'd appreciate it if my staff could stop having near death experiences, this election year was stressful enough," Conrad joked weakly.

"It's been one hell of a ride. We've created history, but not always in the way we might have hoped."

"I'd hoped that she had at least another history making moment in her." He gave a sad smile. "You know the hopes I had."

"I do," Russell admitted. He sighed again, rubbing the side of his face. "Hopefully it won't come to that. Quite liked the fact that there was a happy, stable family in the political arena for a change." He glanced guiltily across at Conrad, "Eh, no offence Sir."

"None taken. Considering the headaches that Harrison has given you, I can hardly complain." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Bess can come through this though, she's strong."

"Let's hope." Russell finally got to his feet. "Well I better get across to the State Department and start knocking heads. If we get a move on, we get can get this out for the late night news, break whatever fiction the papers had planned for the morning." He moved towards the door, turning and asking, "Want me to ask them to send you in anything? Coffee? Scotch?"

Conrad looked surprised at the offer. "No," he replied after a moment. "I promised Lydia I'd go up for some dinner, think today gave her a bit of a fright."

With one last nod, Russell swept from the room, the door clunking shut behind him.

* * *

Stevie fiddled with her engagement ring, twisting it around her finger, sliding it over her knuckle and back down again. "Mom, I kind of need you to wake up, want a bit of advice," she told Elizabeth's still form. She glanced up at Henry and gave him a small smile, before looking back at her Mom's face, scouring it for any sign of recognition. "I spoke to Dad but I think this is definitely one for you." Her smile faded slightly when there was no reaction, and she sighed, "I wish I knew if she could hear me."

Henry reached across from the other side of the bed and patted his daughter's arm. "I know." He looked to the bottom of the room where Jason had hung awkwardly back against the wall for the last ten minutes. "You want to come up here, Bud?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm ok." He swallowed nervously and scuffed his shoes against the floor.

Getting to his feet and pulling himself awkwardly out of the hard, plastic chair, Henry walked over to his son, placing his hands on his arms. "You don't need to be in here if you don't want to be. No-one will think any less if you if you need to leave the room."

Jason looked away from his Dad's face. "Mom would want me here."

"Only if you were comfortable, that's what would be most important to her right now." He glanced back over at Stevie and added, "Look we should probably let your sister and Uncle in for a while anyway, so that will give you both a bit of a break."

"Yeah, they'll be worried," Stevie agreed gathering her cardigan from behind her and rolling it in her arms.

"I'm going to stay here for as long as I'm allowed, overnight if possible," Henry told them. "But we won't all be able to. Maybe talk to your sister and Will and plan what you want to do, I'd really like it if you went home and got some rest. There's nothing to be gained by you all waiting here overnight."

Stevie glanced worriedly at her Mom. "But I promised her that I'd make sure she wasn't alone."

"I know and she won't be. Even if they turf me out, she'll have a nurse here all the time." He looked to the nurse seated at the patient table in the room. "That's right isn't it?"

She gave the family a reassuring smile. "Absolutely, she'll have one to one care. When I finish in an hour, then I'll handover to the next nurse; she won't be alone. And it helps the nurse in charge has said that you can stay with her Dr McCord, the relatives room will be available you overnight, should you want to put your head down for an hour or so. The sofas aren't the most comfortable, but they're better than those," she inclined her head over to the chairs placed by the bed.

"Ok. I'll run it past Aly, but maybe we would be better to go home," Stevie admitted. "Is there anything we can bring in for her? "

"Toiletries," the nurse told her. "We only have basic unscented stuff here. I always think it's nice for people to have what they use at home."

"I'll arrange it," Stevie said, thankful for something practical to do. "Dad, if you want we can arrange to swap at some point, you can come home get a shower and a change of clothes."

Henry shook his head. "I'm staying here until your Mom's awake."

Stevie gave an exasperated sigh, "Dad, that's not what she'd want."

"It's what she'd do if it were me in that bed. I'm staying," he told them firmly.

"We can argue about it later," Stevie told him. "But for just now I'll go and get Alison and Uncle Will." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her Mom's forehead. "I love you and I'll see you soon." She looked up to see that Jason was edging slowly sideways towards the room door, his gaze still fixed firmly on his feet. Walking over to him she slung her arm around his shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to drink."

She smiled as she saw her Dad silently mouth the words "Thank you," at her.

* * *

Blake's head was heavy as the elevator made its way up to the seventh floor, he felt thoroughly down beaten after this afternoons events and was dreading the questions he was facing. He wondered briefly if he should have stayed, but then reminded himself that he wouldn't have felt comfortable sitting watching her like that. Friends might stay but he had to admit that sometimes it was time to step back and let family have time together. They had so much to get their heads around, it wouldn't have been fair for them to do that with him perched awkwardly in a corner.

The elevator opened with a ping and he stepped out, incredibly grateful as her found the floor empty. It was after five, he reminded himself, a lot of people would have made their way home. He could, however hear a flurry of voices from behind the conference room at the top of the office; hoping that it was his friends, he made his way up.

Everyone turned to look as he pulled open the door, and he could have cried with relief to see that it was in fact Nadine, Daisy, Jay and Matt who were camped out around the large table, a selection of empty coffee cups and various food wrappers scattered across the surface.

It was Nadine who spoke first, "How is she?"

Blake dropped heavily into a seat. "She's out of surgery, but they don't know whether she'll make a full recovery." He held back the words brain damage, couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Oh." Nadine gave a sad sigh. "How's her family?"

"Not great, felt it was best to give them some space."

"That sounds like it was the best idea." Nadine pushed him over a packet of biscuits. "Here you look like you could do with some sugar."

"Thanks." He took a bite before admitting, "I feel like I've done nothing but eat sugar and mainline coffee today."

"Some days are like that," Daisy said. "Think it's best just to do whatever it takes to power through."

"Maybe." Blake looked around at them. "So, what's been happening here?"

Daisy gave a shrug. "Trying to not to let the State department implode, which in some ways is just a normal day, but with this horrible undertone, and the depute is his usual ineffective self." She took a sip of her coffee. "Press have been on our backs all day wanting an update and we just have to keep repeating our first statement."

"Well you won't be for long," came a familiar voice from the doorway. They looked up to see Russell rush into the room.

"Russell Jackson is here," Blake announced out a force of habit. "What?" he asked when Matt shot him a disbelieving look. "It's like a pavlovian response now."

"Go get yourselves a refresh of that coffee, and someone make me one as well, splash of milk, two sugars. We have a catastrophe to spin." Russell told them, ignoring Blake.

"Do we really have to spin this?" Jay asked.

"Believe me when you hear this, you're going to be on board with the spinning."

* * *

Alison wrapped her arms around herself as she walked into the hospital room, slowly bringing her eyes up to her Mom and letting out a long shaky breath. Her Dad was seated by the bed, his hand gripping her Mom's like a drowning man clutching a lifeline. She felt her Uncle's hands tightened momentarily where they were resting on her shoulders and she tilted her head up to see his face pale and his mouth drawn into a tight line.

Her Dad finally looked up and smiled at her. "You want to come over here, Noodle?"

Hesitating Alison shook her head. "I…I can't yet," she admitted. Her Mom didn't even look herself, her face was pale, her hair was mused in some areas and lying flat in others, and whilst her Mom took no interest in fashion, she had always taken pride in herself. There was so many tubes and cables as well that she worried she'd knock something. She looked back at her uncle. "Will I hurt her?"

It was as if her words knocked him out of his stupor, his head jerked as he drew his eyes away from the bed and he told her, "No. I know it looks scary, but as long as you're not planning on jumping on the bed then you'll be fine."

"Ok." Alison stepped forward slowly, approaching the same side of the bed as her Dad was on, figuring that if he was already sitting there then she was less likely to hit anything by accident. She hovered awkwardly by his side until her uncle dragged a chair over. Sitting down, she chewed the side of her nail nervously. "Can she hear me?"

"I like to think so," Will told her. "But can't say for sure."

Alison nodded. She looked down at her Mom's hand, from where the fingertips peeked out from her Dad's grasp and frowned. Her nail beds were ingrained with dried blood, which clung to her Mom's normally immaculate nails. "Is that her blood?" she asked.

"It is," her Dad confirmed.

Alison's back straightened, she might not be able to control much right now but she could bring back that piece of normality. Can I get something to clean her nails with?" she asked.

"Noodle, you don't have to-"

"But I want to," Alison insisted. "I can do that for her."

The nurse got up and rummaged through a metal set of drawers at the side of the room, laying a towel down on the bed before filling a small foil bowl with some warm water. She handed it Alison along with a packet of gauze and some cotton wool balls. "Here you go."

Alison smiled up at her. "Thanks." She set herself to work, slowly and methodically. After a moment she said to her Dad. "Stevie says you're going to stay here tonight."

"That's right. Did you guys decide what to do?"

"Will said we could stay with Sophie and Annie, but I think we're going to go back to the house."

"I've said to them they just need to phone Sophie if they change their minds, she'd be happy to have them," Will added.

"And what about you?"

"I'm going to head back for an hour or so, put Annie to bed and then I'll head back in."

"I wish I had some hand cream," Alison remarked, before adding, "I'll send some in, Stevie and I are going to put stuff together for her."

"Your Mom would like that."

The ghost of a smile touched Alison's lips and she briefly squeezed her Mom's fingers. "When you're better we're going out for a manicure, you, me and Stevie. So that means you have no choice, you need to get better."

She was so engrossed in her task that she missed the way her Dad's lips thinned, pursing together as he blinked quickly, trying to rid his eyes of the tears that were forming.


	14. Chapter 14

**Writing this chapter was like wading through treacle.**

* * *

Henry listened to the slow steady beeps of the monitors and the varying levels of whooshing that the ventilator emitted, Elizabeth's chest rising and falling in rhythm. It was the only movement she made, her face was blank and expressionless, whilst her eyelids didn't so much as flicker and her fingers remained slack in his grasp. He'd never seen her so still. Elizabeth was always on the move, she was a whirlwind of energy; even in her sleep she would wriggle about to get comfortable, her arms and legs either star-fishing out or winding themselves round the duvet as she slowly but steadily stole it.

He stroked his wife's forehead as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing kiss to her knuckles as he moved a strand of blonde hair off her face. Her skin was smooth, relaxed in repose, the laughter lines around her eyes were barely visible and her forehead was missing the creases from when her face was scrunched up in thought. If it wasn't from the warmth emanating from her skin, he could have been convinced that she was already gone. Henry gave a small shake of his head, he shouldn't think like that, she was here, she was still with him and he needed to hold onto that.

All he wanted was to speak to her, to tell her that he was sorry, but anything he could think to say sounded trite, and so the words stuck in his throat.

There was the sound of plastic scrapping against the floor and he saw the nurse gather her clipboard, and pen in hand make her way closer to the bed, scribbling down numbers. "Everything look ok?" Henry asked, a note of desperation sinking into his tone.

She smiled at him, giving a reassuring nod as she replied, "Everything's sitting right where it should be just now." She leaned across, tapping the ventilator screen to show a different page, making a note of the figures on it. "We'll do these checks every hour, means we can make sure that everything is as it should be."

"What is it you're checking for?"

"Well we take a note of the ventilator settings every hour, Elizabeth's don't change but it's part of our safety checks. It also allows us to track exactly how she's doing and see how much breathing she's managing for herself."

Henry frowned. "I thought the ventilator was doing all the breathing."

"Right now it's doing most of it," she admitted. "But we have different settings we can use to support breathing and the setting that Elizabeth is on delivers a set number of breaths per minute at a pre-set volume of air. The basic settings will ensure that she is given enough oxygen and will time itself out to make sure the breaths are given evenly. But if she takes a breath on her own then the ventilator will sense it and support it instead of delivering the controlled breath. The ventilator keeps a record of how many breaths a minute were delivered by the machine and how many Elizabeth triggered, and each hour we take a note so that we can track it."

"And if she isn't taking any breaths for herself what does that mean, long term?"

Her voice took on a softer, comforting tone. "It might not mean anything. Elizabeth is heavily sedated, and we have a morphine infusion running which will also limit any effort she might make to breath on her own. Although, if it helps, she triggered half of the last minute's breaths by herself."

Henry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, a relived sigh escaping him. He understood what he was being told, but it made him feel better to know that she was trying, it helped him feel like she was still in there, still fighting. "What else do you check?"

"Well we have an arterial line in that keeps an accurate blood pressure, we check heart rate and temperature. I'm going to have a listen to her chest, make sure we can hear her lungs on both sides and I'll check the chest drain along with the syringe drivers that provide her sedation."

"It sounds like so much."

"For us, it's part of our everyday routine but we know for everyone else it can be a bit overwhelming."

"This whole day has been overwhelming," Henry admitted. "This morning everything was normal, the kids were bickering, I was caught up in thinking about work. Now…now it feels like nothing could ever be normal again." His eyes flickered back up to Elizabeth's still form, his grip tightening monetarily around her hand. "I can't even think what I should say to her just now."

"You don't have to say anything, some people don't. It's a strange situation, there aren't any rules you need to follow."

"It's just I've never not known what to say to her."

"Like I said, this is a strange situation, it's ok to be lost for words. You're here and that's the main thing."

Henry gave a nod, letting her get back to work. He was here now, but he hadn't been there when she really needed him, and he hated himself for that.

* * *

"Good of you to join us, Kevin." Russell barely glanced up from his work as the beleaguered FBI director slunk into the conference room. "Matt, pass him his part of the statement."

Matt pulled out a piece of paper from the masses that scattered the desk in front of him. "Whole thing isn't finished yet, but Russell's cleared your section."

"Thanks."

"Oh, don't thank me just yet," he muttered under his breath, quickly turning his attention back unfinished part of the statement, while Russell shot him a dark glare.

Kevin read through the statement and shook his head. Can we discuss this?" He asked Russell, and then glancing around the occupants of the room, added, "in private?"

"I can bollock you just as well in here as I can elsewhere," Russell told him. "And it's been a long day, so I'm not in the mood to move. That's going to be the statement, Kevin, get on board."

"Has the President cleared this?"

Russell's pen paused, and he finally brought his eyes up from his own work. His gaze was sharp, his eyes glinting. "The President is aware of the sentiment behind the statement."

"So, you're throwing me to the wolves?"

"Not what I'd call it. In fact, I expect that you'll probably come out of enquiry with your job intact. I'm not so sure for your protocols and for a coupling of your underlings, particularly the one who failed to pass on pertinent information to the secret service."

Kevin loosened his tie, his finger hooking behind the knot, pulling at it. "So, you're blaming us? I mean we caught the guy!"

Russell gave a dry laugh. "He gave himself up at the scene, so technically the service handed him to you. Kevin, the Secretary of State was shot, someone has to take the blame. This time it's the FBI."

"And what the secret service get off scot free!" His voice rose slightly in volume, the paper crumpling in his hand as his fist clenched in frustration.

"They were operating with one hand tied behind their back."

"They're the ones that let her get shot in that park; not us!"

Russell slammed his hand down onto the desk, hard, the thud reverberating round the room before he got steadily to his feet, his palms planted flat as he leaned across the desk. His voice was and steady, each word he spoke taking on a hard inflection. "Elizabeth McCord was shot by a man that your service deemed not to be a threat, not only was it your service that decreed that but they then failed to follow basic protocol. If the service had had that name, that first letter wouldn't have been dismissed so easily. They would have asked for his description and they might have noticed the lunatic milling around her like she was a goddam tourist attraction! Her security would have been at the very least tightened until he was re-investigated. That was your failing, not theirs."

"Our initial assessment was right, our interviews prove that. Merchant was only a threat following the first investigation."

"Doesn't matter," Russell told him, waving his hand dismissively.

"It's a salient point. You're right, we didn't pass on the name," Kevin admitted, as he rubbed the back of his arm across his sweat dampened forehead. "But, I think it should be put into context. Merchant wasn't found to be a credible threat, in fact if he had never been investigated-"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Russell interrupted. "I'm not having anyone from this administration standing up and pointing the finger at the grieving husband."

"That's not what I was suggesting."

"Really, because it sure as hell sounds like it and believe me you don't want to go down that particular rabbit hole. Henry McCord was asked in the context of that investigation to hand over names of anyone who could be a potential suspect, Merchant had form for harassment, common sense would dictate that his name should have been put forward. It was your agency's job to ensure that protocol was followed past that point. You failed. Now get on board and read the damned statement."

Kevin glanced back down at the crumpled sheet of paper and swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Fine."

"Good." Russell checked his watch, gathering his papers into a leather binder and flipping it closed with a soft thud. "Now I have somewhere else to be, another arm to twist as they say. Daisy here will keep you on script. Press briefing is scheduled for half eight." He gave the occupants of the room a warning glance. "I know this is an emotive subject but lets keep it to the talking points." The folder was tucked neatly under his arm as he strode from the room. The heavy conference room door closing behind him with a heavy thunk.

* * *

Stevie pressed her nose against the black frosted car window, feeling the cold seep into her skin, causing the flesh on her arms to pimple, her hairs standing on end. The sky was grey and heavy and the rain fell across the city in a fine, sheeted mist as they sped through the damp streets in silence. The weather suited Stevie's mood perfectly, it was grey and flat, just like how she felt right now.

She felt as though her world had been upended, flipped on its axis and she didn't know how she could right it. Her eyes stung and she closed them, fighting against the tears she could feel welling, she could cry later but not now. Right now, her brother and sister needed her, their Dad was crumbling and so she had to be the pillar of strength. It didn't matter that all she wanted was to curl up into a ball and sob, to have someone stroke her hair and promise her that it would all be ok.

One hand slipped into her pocket and brushed against her mobile, her fingers curving momentarily around it. She could text Jareth, ask him to get on the next flight out, she could place her head across his legs and let it all come tumbling out, all her pain and fear. She drew her hand back out as she let out a quiet sigh as she watched her breath steam up the window. That's what she wanted to happen from their reunion but she couldn't shake the horrible feeling that it wouldn't end up being like that at all.

Closing her eyes, she let the sound of the car engine and the whoosh of it driving along the wet roads steal her from her thoughts. It worked for about three seconds before that sickly feeling of panic twisted her stomach again. She needed to decide what to do about Jareth, but she couldn't face making that decision tonight. They might have their struggles but he was certainty and she needed that right now, as everything else shattered and fell apart, she needed that one fact to hold onto, the day dream of her future family. Her lips pulled tight.

"I'm going to head home for a while once you guys are dropped off," Will told them, his voice breaking through the heavy silence. "I know you wanted to gather some stuff up for your Mom, so I thought that you could leave it out and I'll pick it up before I go back to the hospital."

"That makes sense," Stevie replied, finally turning away from the window. "How long do you think you'll be?"

"About two, maybe three hours. I'd like to put Annie to bed tonight."

Stevie nodded. "Should give us plenty of time to put together a bag. Thought I'd put some stuff in there for Dad as well."

"He'd like that." Will glanced around his nieces and nephew, his hand rubbed at the stubble forming on his jaw. "Look, why don't you come back to mine. I don't like the idea of you being alone tonight, and Annie and Sophie would love to have you there."

Watching as her sibling's looked away at their Uncle's suggestion, Stevie forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile onto her face, "We'll be fine, honest, and after all we have Sophie's number if we change our minds."

"Ok then, if you're all sure."

The Black SUV rolled to a slow stop as they drew up outside their townhouse. The door on Alison's side opened and she and then Jason clamoured out of the car. Stevie slid across the back seat to follow them, pausing when Will gently caught her arm. She looked at him questioningly. "Uncle Will?"

"Stevie, anything at all you just phone me, I'll come right over."

Stevie gave a soft smile. "You'll be with Mom, she needs you more right now."

He shook his head. "But what she'd want is know that you guys are ok. You're the most important people in the world to her. So you promise that you'll call me."

"I promise."

His grip on her arm slackened and Stevie slipped out of the car, wrapping her arms around herself. She noticed that Alison and Jason had paused at the front steps, saw Alison wipe her eyes before she hurried inside, Jason following quick after her. She saw what had caught their attention as she got closer. Flowers and hand written notes in cellophane pockets were tied to the stairs railings, like some sort of shrine. "When did they get here?" She asked the security detail.

"Last few hours people have been dropping by. We've checked all of them. There's more been left at the State Department."

Stevie shivered in the rain, as she looked at the small collection, unsure how she felt about it all. A teddy bear caught her eye, a few drops of rain starting to cling to its fur. She leaned forward and picked it up, brushing some of the dampness from it. There was something sad about seeing it sit so dejectedly out here. Folding it into her arms, Stevie took one last look at the flowers before walking into her quiet family home, the bear against her chest.


	15. Chapter 15

**So I've been re-watching the series and realised that my timeline was a bit skewed regarding the election. So I changed a couple lines of chapter 13 to fix that, with the election now being finished. Mainly because if I left it, it would irritate me greatly.**

* * *

Will slid his key into the lock, pushing the door open as he turned it. The smell of spices scented the air and he felt his stomach grumble in response. He shrugged off his jacket, his shoulders aching and emitting a small click at the effort and he gave a tired sigh. Looping it onto the overloaded coat rack, he turned to see the small face of his daughter peering round the living room door. "Dad you're home!" she shrieked delightedly.

Annie flung herself around the doorframe, rushing down the hallway, her arms outstretched and her slightly too big pyjamas billowing. Will dropped to one knee and swooped her up into a hug, supporting her weight on his hip. "I am so happy to see you," he told her. He hugged her close, pressing a kiss into her fair hair, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

Her hands were sticky as they pressed against his cheeks. "You look tired," she informed him.

"I am a bit," he admitted. "But not too tired to read you your bedtime story."

She tilted her chin slightly to the left, her small mouth twisting thoughtfully. "Do I get to pick which one?"

"I thought we were halfway through Charlotte's Web."

"We are, but I don't want that tonight. I want the one about the tiger."

Will had no idea what tiger book his daughter was referring to, with them being her favourite animal she had several and so he simply nodded, "I think that can be arranged."

Sophie cleared her throat and Will looked up to see her in the hall, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "I've made fajitas for dinner." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I'll keep some warm for you," she assured him before turning back into the kitchen.

"Thanks." Will adjusted Annie's weight on his hip again. "Are you all ready for bed?"

"Yes."

"And you've brushed your teeth?"

"Yes."

"Annie Adams, don't you fib!" Sophie called from the kitchen. "She's only just finished her toast and jam."

Explaining the sticky hands that were currently gripping onto his t-shirt, as she stared guiltily at the cotton, tugging one corner of her bottom lip in-between her teeth. "Ok…so I haven't brushed my teeth," she told him quietly.

Brushing a crumb away from her chin, Will remarked dryly, "I can see that. Now what have we said about fibbing?"

"Not to do it." She raised her brown eyes guiltily. "But I hate brushing my teeth."

"You know what you'd really hate?"

"What?"

He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "Having no teeth."

Annie clamped her hands over her mouth, her eyes widening. "You can't take my teeth."

Will laughed, amused for the first time in hours. "I'm not going to take your teeth, but if you don't brush them then they'll all fall out."

"Oh." Annie's hands dropped, her nose wrinkling upwards as she considered his words. "It's ok," she told him gleefully after a moment of thought. "I'll grow more teeth."

"You only get two sets. If your adult teeth fall out, then you're going to look like this." Will pulled his lips over his teeth and gaped mawkishly at her in a large grimace.

Annie giggled. "I won't look like that."

"You will." He placed her down onto the floor. "Now on you go and brush them and use your timer. I'll go and get your story book."

She gave an exaggerated sigh, turning to stomp down towards the bathroom, her arms swinging as she attempted to make her irritation clear. Will watched her go and when she was out of sight, he let himself chuckle, she was going to be an absolute nightmare as a teenager.

He made his way into her bedroom and picked up a book with an overly cheerful cat on the front, hoping it was the right one, as he switched on her bedside lamp. Sitting down on her bed, he swung his feet up, the room was so pink that in the dull glow of the light it was like sitting in a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Leaning back against her pillow, he listened to the running tap water, the faint sound of her brushing and gargling, timing it out in his head to make sure she didn't try to cheat.

Her feet made soft thudding noises on the carpet and as he heard her get closer, Will closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side, letting out some exaggerated snores. He heard Annie giggle, felt the bed dip as she jumped onto it. Her fingers were sharper than he expected and he smothered a wince as they dug into his shoulders, her shake was also more brutal than he was prepared for and he could smell the mint on her breath as she hollered at his ear, "Dad, wake up!"

Will gave an exaggerated jump and caught her in another hug and swung her down onto the bed with one arm, as he lifted the covers with the other. Annie gave a giggle of delight at the movement and grabbed her bear, which was trapped between the bed and the wall, hauling it up into a cuddle. "You both ready for this story then?" He asked. "You'll need to be quick before I fall asleep again.

Annie fiddled with bears ears as she snuggled into the duvet. "Almost."

"You need to get comfy?"

"No, wanted to ask you a question."

"You can't get a puppy," Will told her firmly, assuming that she was going to ask the same question she'd been throwing at them for the last three weeks.

"It's not about a puppy." She looked away from him, staring instead at her bear, making it move it's paws up and down. "It's about Aunt Lizzie, Mom said she isn't well."

Will thought he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears at the question and his stomach twisted with uncertainty. He'd known that Sophie was going to talk to her, God forbid they didn't want her seeing it on the news, but he stupidly hadn't been prepared for her questions, hoping instead that whatever Sophie had told her would do the trick. Clearly that had been wishful thinking on his part. "That's right." He lifted his arm, wrapping it around Annie and pulling him into his side, glancing down at her small face. "What else did your Mom tell you?"

"That she's in hospital so the doctors can look after her. Were you looking after her?"

"No, I was just visiting her."

"But you're the best doctor ever, you can make her better."

Will smiled sadly at his daughter. "She needs some special doctors."

Annie sighed, lifting her hand to twirl a strand of her hair around her finger as she thought about her next words. "Mom said that she's really sick and that you might be upset. Is she sicker than the time I threw up on the rug?"

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Will felt a bubble of inappropriate laughter catch the back of his throat. "It's a different kind of sick, but yeah, Lizzie is sicker than that."

Her head tilted back, her eyes widening. "Will she have to go to heaven?"

Will's stomach plummeted, Annie's idea of death was limited to that of her hamster and Sophie's great aunt and he had hoped not to have to extend that for some time yet. His voice was hoarse as he forced himself to meet her forthright gaze, he couldn't lie to her, it could just make things worse. "I hope not, but maybe."

Annie's rosebud mouth pursed, her forehead crinkling with confusion, "But Lizzie isn't _that_ old, and you go to heaven when you get old."

"Old people do go to heaven, but sometimes people get very very very sick and the doctors can't make them feel better, so they have to go to heaven as well."

"But, you can't come back from heaven."

"No, you can't."

"But then how would Stevie and Ali and Jason see their Mom? And how could Lizzie take me out on her horses, like she promised?"

"Well, they couldn't and she couldn't."

"So we'd never see her again?" Annie looked perplexed at the notion, watching her Dad carefully.

Will involuntarily tightened his hug on her. "We'd see her when we went heaven, when we get old."

"Or sick," she supplied helpfully. She reached out and fingered the front page of the book in her Dad's hand, her thumb flicking the bottom hand corner.

"Or sick, but only very sick. Not throw up on the rug sick," Will clarified.

Annie curled closer into him. "Are you going back to see her tonight?"

"I am."

"Then you can make her better."

Will kissed her head again. "I told you bub, she needs special doctors."

"No, she just needs you. You can fix it." She sighed and took the book from his hand, opening it to the first page and handing it back. "Will you be back later?"

"I can come back to help you get ready for school, if you'd like that."

"Yeah. You go and make Lizzie better and then we can have pancakes for breakfast."

"Pancakes are a weekend breakfast."

"Ok…" she drawled the word out as if she were a long-suffering teenager. "Then I'll have my chocolate cereal instead."

* * *

Henry could hear the crackle of the radio, as the Agent at the door to Elizabeth's room shifted on his feet. He glanced away from Elizabeth to see the man's head dip, could hear the quiet mumble as he spoke back into his radio. Henry watched as he turned and leaned into the room. "Dr McCord, Russell Jackson is here, he's asking to speak to you."

Looking back at his wife, Henry shook his head, "I'm not leaving her." He'd promised that she wouldn't be alone, he was the only one here right now and he was damned if he was going to leave her.

"He says it's important."

Henry sucked in a breath; he felt a rush of anger that he forced himself to push down. His voice tight, he replied, "Not as important as my wife."

"If it helps, Elizabeth is due to be turned, so we'd ask that you wait outside for that," the nurse informed him. "We also have to change over one of the syringes, so we'll be at least ten minutes."

His grip tightened on Elizabeth's hand for a moment before he placed it lightly back on the bed. "Ok. Tell him he has ten minutes." As the agent spoke back into his radio, stepping back into his post at the door. Henry stood, leaning across Elizabeth and kissing her forehead, his voice a soft whisper as he told her, "I'll be back soon, I promise." He drew back, the sheet rustling as he did so, and he watched her face for a few seconds, waiting to see if there was any sign of a response. There wasn't, the ventilator continued to whoosh, the monitors continued to beep, and his wife continued to lie motionless.

He straightened; his feet heavy as he made for the door. Pausing for a moment, he glanced at the window next to his wife's room and realised that it was getting dark, a gloom settling over the city as the rain continued to pour. Turning, he walked down the ward, the fluorescent lights, the sound of the machines and the staff who whirred around busily made it feel as though it should still be the middle of the day. He didn't look at any of the other beds as he passed, he didn't want to gawk and he also didn't want to feel sorry for anyone else, to risk sharing in their misery; he was far too lost in his own.

The main door had a pad, when he hit it, he heard the door lock click free and he stepped out into the corridor. The lighting out here was still bright, but it had an eerie glow and it was silent other than the buzz of the bulbs. He rubbed his burning eyes, feeling them sting and water. His whole head ached, a dull throb at his temples and behind his forehead. He felt as though he could sleep for a year while at the same time knowing if his head went anywhere near a pillow that his thoughts were racing far too much to allow sleep. Looking at the agent standing by the entrance to the ward, Henry realised that he didn't recognise him. "I was told that Russell Jackson was waiting for me?"

"He is, Dr McCord. He's in the relative's room."

Henry gave a nod, trudging heavily in that direction, trying to steel himself for whatever topic Russell was going to throw at him. The door opened with a click and he stepped inside.

Russell turned at the sound, his gaze flickering over Henry. His eyes were bloodshot, his eyelids slightly puffy, whilst his skin looked pale and pasty underneath the lighting with every line appearing deeply etched in his skin. He looked nothing like the man who had now adorned the government arm candy lists for two years in a row. Knowing that it was a trite question at this time, but asking for the sake of appearing polite, he asked, "Henry, how are you holding up?"

"I'll be better when I can get back to my wife," he muttered.

"Of course." He gave a deep sigh, rubbing at his chin, he looked up and gave a deep sigh. "You want a coffee?"

"Sure," Henry agreed. "I can stretch my legs in the five-hundred-yard walk to get there." They fell into a slow steady pace together as they left the room, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. "So," he remarked, elongating the vowel for an extra beat. "I'm sure you didn't come here to buy me a hospital coffee, so what is it Russell?"

"It's…awkward," he admitted. "I wanted to talk to you about Ray Merchant."

Henry's lips thinned, drawing into a tight line as his eyes focussed on a spot on the wall ahead. "What about him?"

"I thought we could avoid dragging this all out and get Merchant to enter a guilty plea."

"And just how are you planning to do that?"

"With your permission I'd like to take the death penalty off the table."

They stopped at the machine and Henry leaned against one vending machine as Russell slid the coins into the coffee machine, which registered them with an audible clink. "I wasn't aware that we could now blackmail people into pleading guilty."

Russell handed him his coffee, taking a sip of his own, a momentary grimace twisting his lips. "FBI found some street diazepam on him; we ask him to tell us his dealer and plead guilty and we don't ask for the death penalty."

"You want to offer the man who shot my wife a deal, just to bring in some dealer," Henry growled.

"The dealer is a cover; we don't need him but it's a means to an end. As you say we can't be seen to be holding the death penalty over him as blackmail."

"And what makes you think that he'll even take it?"

"Merchant threw his gun down the second after he fired, he didn't make an attempt to shoot again despite having the chance to do so." Russell saw Henry wince at his words, his left eye flickering. "Sorry, that was maybe a little bit too on the nose. My point is that this guy didn't want to die, didn't give the service an excuse to shoot his sorry ass. He'll take this deal and we can all avoid a trial."

Henry took a thoughtful sip of his coffee, Russell's words turning over and over in his mind. "Why do we need to avoid a trial? You think he won't be found guilty? He handed himself over at the scene, I don't think we need to worry about it." Henry shook his head, his tone turning hard and bitter as he added, "Let him take his chances in court."

"It's not about his chances in court. It's about trying to avoid a show trial. Yes, he'll be found guilty," Russell admitted. "But the rhetoric that he spews out in his defence will be messy, I have no doubt that any defence lawyer will highlight that he was Elizabeth's student-"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Henry…come on, you know what it is I'm trying to say here." He gestured outwards with one hand. "I don't like it, but…"

Henry's cheeks reddened, his eyes glinting with rage. "But what?" His voice lowered into a quiet, warning grumble. "Say it. I want you to say it."

Russell shook his head. "He's delusional, he'll play the affair card and the media will jump on it. I want to avoid it."

"Because of the optics," Henry spat in disgust, his grasp tightening on his polystyrene cup. "You seem to forget that Elizabeth is the victim here."

"I haven't forgotten. I'm just being realistic."

"Realistic?" Henry echoed, throwing his barely touched coffee into the bin. "I don't want to be realistic. I want the man who tried to kill Elizabeth to face the force of the law!" His voice raised at the last sentence.

Russel gave the corridor a nervous glance, his shoulders relaxing when he saw it was still empty. "I know it's unfair, I know it's-"

"A damning inditement on our victim blaming culture? Of our determination to always clear the white man of any wrongdoing?"

"We don't live in an ideal world. I don't like bringing this to you, but I know what it's going to look like in six to twelve months when the trial comes around. What is going to be made up and dragged out."

Henry pointed a finger a Russell, jabbing it with irritation as he spoke. "If Elizabeth was a man, you wouldn't have brought this to me. It wouldn't even be a consideration."

"No, it wouldn't," Russell admitted. "But she isn't."

"No. No! Let the Bastard go to trial. Let him pull whatever he wants to the media, it won't change the outcome. Screw your optics."

He turned on his heel, storming away. Russell called out after him, "It's not about the optics."

Spinning round, Henry snapped, "Like hell it isn't!"

"It isn't, really it isn't." Russell stepped closer. "Henry, I've had open heart surgery and the recovery is a bitch. I mean I know I made it look easy, but.," he raised his hands and arms in a shrug. "I was pretending. And I can't imagine recovering from that, along with the trauma of being shot and having the media tear me to shreds because of the way this world works. We won't have the death penalty for much longer, you know the legislation that's in the works, a few more years and it'll be gone, and his sentence will be commuted to life anyway. So why go through it? Look I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm on your side."

"And if Elizabeth doesn't wake up, or if she isn't aware of what the media is saying?" Henry asked. "Then what does it matter?"

"It will matter to your kids. If this comes to the worse case scenario, do you want this pulled up when they're trying to grieve?"

"Stop," Henry warned him. "Don't use our children as a reason to let society away with this!" He shook his head, his hand running through his hair. "Only a few weeks ago Elizabeth was being judged on the merit of her legs and the way she looked rather than what she achieved. And now what you're telling me is that when some lunatic walks up to her and blasts her in the chest with a bullet, it doesn't matter that he's at fault but because she's an attractive, successful woman, the media will find a way to turn this into her fault. Find a way to say that she deserved it. You know what Russell; you walk into that ward and look at what he's done to her. You stand by her bed and look at all the tubes and machines that she needs to keep her alive and then just for good measure ask the FBI to see her blood soaked blouse and then tell me that I should pay more attention to media spin and lies than I should for getting justice for my wife." When Russell stared down awkwardly at his shoes, clearing his throat but making no reply, Henry concluded, "Unless Elizabeth wakes up and says otherwise, it goes to trial."

"Ok," Russell told him. "Court date to read the charges and for him to enter his plea is at least twenty-four hours away, so if you change your mind…"

"I won't."

"One last thing, President Dalton would like to visit Elizabeth. He wanted me to ask if that would be possible."

Henry gave a short nod. "Of course, I'm sure that the hospital won't turn away the President of the United States."

"I'll let him know."

"Fine. I'm going to get back to Elizabeth. Thanks for the coffee."

Russell dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he watched Henry McCord walk away from him and exhaled deeply. That had been even worse than he'd pictured, and his day wasn't finished yet.

* * *

"Is she asleep? Sophie asked, folding a dish towel over her hands and pulling a bowl out of the warm oven.

Will nodded as he sat down at the table, helping himself to a couple of wraps. "She is, took a while though."

Sophie nudged the bowl with the filling for his fajita close to him. "You know you didn't need to sit with her until she fell asleep."

"I know, but I wanted to," he admitted, as he spooned large amounts of the mix into a wrap, folding it up into a neat parcel. He took a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing before he spoke again. "She was asking about Lizzie, I wanted to make sure that she could go to sleep."

"Ah." Sophie sat down across from her husband, taking a sip of her wine. "I didn't tell her what happened, I just thought it was best she knew something."

"I agree. I just hoped I'd never need to have that conversation with her."

Sophie pushed forward a glass of wine. "Want some? You look like you could do with it."

"I'm going to go back to the hospital, so I'll give it a miss."

"How is she?"

Will sighed, leaning back in his chair and suddenly wishing that he hadn't turned down the alcohol. "I don't know. She's stable, physically she made it through surgery so she should come through it."

"But?" Sophie asked leadingly.

"But she had a cardiac arrest, depending on how long her brain went without oxygen…" He tailed off.

Sophie winced. "How bad could it be?"

"She was in hospital; they had an airway in place so they could deliver some oxygen. With chest compressions there's a good chance that her brain did get some oxygen. Whether or not it was enough to stave off permanent damage." He raised his shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know," he whispered.

Getting up, Sophie walked around the table to move behind him, draping her arms around his shoulders, leaning into him and pressing a kiss into his hair. "Oh Will, I'm so sorry."

Will felt his eyes water and he rubbed at them with the back of his hand, a quiet sniff escaping him. "You know, Lizzie was always on my case about keeping safe. It used to drive me crazy even though I knew that she was just afraid of losing me. I never gave it a thought, not really." He leaned his head back against Sophie's chest. "I always thought that if I was to go first then fine, sometimes I felt as though I shouldn't have survived the accident and that it would just be righting a mistake. I never once thought that I'd be the one left behind."

"I know it's not the same, but you will always have the kids, they're part of her and they'll need you more than ever."

"I know." He gave a sad smile. "I just don't know if I'm ready for this."

"No one ever is." She reached down and squeezed his hand. "But you have me and you have Annie; always."

Will tilted his head upwards and pressed a kiss to Sophie's mouth. "For that alone, I'm a lucky guy."


	16. Chapter 16

Jason leaned forward on the sofa, his elbows pressing into his thighs and his chin resting on his clasped hands as he watched the standardised photo of his Mom appear in the corner of the TV screen. The news writer tilted his head in what Jason suspected was meant to be an endearing manner.

"Tonight, the State Department has released a statement updating that Secretary Elizabeth McCord is now out of surgery and is reported as being in a serious but stable condition following an assassination attempt in Lincoln Park at lunchtime today. FBI Director Kevin Doherty has announced that this was an isolated, targeted attack on Secretary McCord and that charges of attempted murder have been brought against one individual." His head tilted to the other side and Jason felt an irrational surge of irritation. "Although Director Doherty didn't name the shooter, this channel can confirm that a Raymond Merchant has been charged." The picture in the corner changed to a dark-haired man, who's chubby cheeks were decorated with a fine layer of stubble, a small goatee on his chin. His hair was overlong and brushed the collar of his shirt. He was seated at a table and the others next to him were blurred out. Jason forced himself to look away from the picture and made himself listen to the rest of the statement. "Director Doherty has also announced that the FBI failed to pass on information that may have seen Raymond Merchant identified as a viable risk prior to today's shooting and that a full internal investigation will be launched, we now go live-"

Jason made a quiet scoffing noise of anger and hit the power button, switching off the TV, and rocking back on the sofa he ran his fingers through his hair and pressed his palms against his eyes. He sat like that for a moment, feeling the anger thrum in his veins and he inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. He had always railed against the establishment, believed that they kept secrets that they had no right in keeping. Normally he might have crowed at any of their failures, used it to needle at his parents but there was no victory in this. His Mom believed in the establishment, believed and followed their rules – for the most part – and he had no doubt that she believed that they kept her safe in return; but they hadn't.

He slid his hands down his face, twisting one so that he could chew at the side of his thumbnail, wondering just what the FBI had missed. He played what his Dad had told them over again in his head. That he had reported him, that he had thought he was the one stalking them, but then that surgeon had come in and Ali had lost it and they hadn't finished the conversation. He didn't know what it was that they'd missed, but it had to be big if they were admitting to it.

There was a scuffling sound behind him and he turned to see Alison lingering at the edge of the table, a fleece blanket draped round her shoulders, her hand clutching it tight. "Were you watching the news?"

"Yeah."

Alison shuffled forward towards the sofa, dropping onto it with a heavy sigh. "What did they say?"

"Showed a picture of the guy who did it."

Alison's grip tightened on her blanket as she pulled her legs up onto the sofa, curling in on herself so that her chin rested on her knees. "I couldn't really see him in the video, not clearly anyway. What did he look like?"

Jason's mouth pulled tight, feeling the rage surge again. "Nothing special," he replied, his voice gruffer than usual. "They never are though." He sighed, letting his head fall back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling light. "It said the FBI made a mistake, that they didn't pass on information; that they might have identified him before the shooting."

"Did they say what it was?"

"Nope, just that they'd investigate it."

"I wonder if Dad knows."

"He must do, the guy from the FBI came to see him earlier, remember?" He shot his sister a sidelong glance. "He probably just didn't get the chance to tell us."

Alison gave a sigh, picking at a loose thread on her blanket as she pulled her gaze away from her brother's. "You mean because I lost it with him."

"You did go a bit nuclear." He held up a hand. "Look I'm not annoyed, although I was at the time. I just don't get why you blame Dad."

She bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes watering. "When I saw the video all I could see was Mom standing there by herself because he was late and then he said about giving the FBI that guys name and…I just lost it."

"You still angry with him?"

"A bit," she admitted. "Not in the same way. I just can't help thinking that if he'd been there then it wouldn't have happened." She gave a soft sigh, her nail continuing to work at the pull in the fabric of the blanket. "Uncle Will thinks he might have just gone ahead and done it anyway, but that Dad would have been hurt."

Jason frowned thoughtfully, his mind slowly picking over the facts that he knew about what had happened, trying to piece them into some semblance that made sense. "I don't know." He left out a huff of breath, his left knee jiggling nervously. "I mean guys that do this kind of thing, it's a power play, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Alison turned her head, now resting her cheek on her knees. "That's why I think he wouldn't have done it if Dad was there. He waited until she was alone, he wouldn't have had the balls to go near her otherwise; at least I don't think he would have."

"Maybe not, but you can't be mad at Dad forever."

"I don't want to be," she sighed irritably. "I just…" She shook her head. "I wish I'd never watched that video."

Jason watched as his sister closed her eyes for a few seconds, squeezing them tightly as she gave a soft sniffle. "I…I thought about watching it," he admitted. "When Russell mentioned it…if I'd had my phone, I would have looked it up."

"Don't," she recommended.

"Well I won't now," he scoffed, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. "You've definitely put me off."

Alison rolled her eyes at him. "Believe me, you're not missing out."

He swallowed nervously, his voice quieter than usual as he asked, "Is it really bad? I know that sounds stupid to ask, but…" He gave a shrug, muttering, "I don't know, don't even know what I'm trying to say."

"It's really bad. I thought that it would help me make sense of what happened to Mom, of why it happened but it didn't. He just walks right up to her; he didn't even give her a chance and she just drops." She notices how her brother's expression drops, his mouth slackening as his eyes drift to the floor and she feels a tug of guilt, he's her little brother, she should be making him feel better, not worse. "Just don't watch it Jase, it doesn't answer anything, and it doesn't help you make sense of any of this."

"Ali…what do we do if Mom doesn't wake up?" He doesn't meet her eyes as he voices the one thought that's been niggling him all day long. He hadn't been able to voice that fear before now, but it wouldn't leave him.

She inhales sharply, she's played that scenario through her brain a couple of times today in an effort to prepare herself for the worst. "We stick together."

"Dad will be a wreck and you're still angry at him."

Alison swallows heavily and nods. "Yeah, I am, but he's still my Dad. I didn't mean to hurt him, I didn't think when I said-"

"I get it," Jason interrupted her. "When he first told us what happened I was really angry, but I just didn't know who to be angry at. You found the someone."

"Suppose. Are you still angry?"

"Yeah, still not sure where to aim it though." His teeth worried the ragged edge of his fingernail again. "And Dad's angry, you can see it in him. So if we're all angry then how do we stick together? And I mean you and Stevie might both be going off to college, you could be miles away."

Alison's shoulder's straightened and she shifted herself so that she was facing Jason on the sofa. "I can defer for a year," she reassured him. She gave a small, sad smile. "I don't really think that I'll feel like starting college in the fall if…well…you know." She reached out and patted his shoulder. "We'll get through it and I won't say anything to Dad."

Jason looked across at his sister. "You know if you get angry then you can always tell me or Stevie about it."

"And you can tell us as well."

"Yeah." He finally relaxed back against the sofa cushions, although his leg continued to jiggle nervously.

* * *

Stevie tentatively opened the door to her parent's bedroom, unsure why she was so nervous, she normally bounced into this room without a second thought, rarely even knocking. Now it felt like an intrusion. Maybe she shouldn't have told Alison that she wanted to do this alone. Another second of hesitation and she finally reached for the light switch, hearing the quiet buzz as it switched on and leaned in the doorway, peering in almost nervously.

The room was exactly as it always was, why would it have been otherwise, she wondered. She could tell from the perfect placement of the cushions on the bed that it was her Mom who had made it that morning. The effect was slightly ruined by the fact that her Mom had then proceeded to throw a couple of her blouses across the comforter, obviously in search of an outfit that morning.

She stepped into the room, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpeting as she padded around. A pair of her Mom's reading glasses sat askew on her bedside table, her make up scattered across and left lying at various points around the room. Stevie felt an odd tug in her stomach at the sight, wondering if she should tidy up, if seeing this would upset her Dad when he came home. Or would moving it upset him more? She sighed, she'd leave it alone for just now, think about it another time.

Stepping into the dressing room, she opened the cupboard door and standing up onto her tip toes she pulled down one of the smaller travel bags, unclipping the built-in toiletries bag. Her Mom's toiletries were mainly around the sink, her shower gel at the side of the bath. Stevie hesitated, unsure of what to take, of what would be needed. Shower gel, she'd definitely need that, and some deodorant. Hopefully tomorrow she would have that tube taken out, then she'd need her toothbrush and toothpaste. Her hand hovered over the shampoo and conditioner, maybe in a few days. She'd noticed the ends of her Mom's hair when they'd been in the room. They'd been damp, clumping together in thick strands, and when she'd leaned in to kiss her cheek she had seen small flecks of blood still matted in the strands and realised that the staff had tried to wash the worst of it out. If her Mom woke up then she'd want to wash it as quickly as possible. When, she corrected herself, when her Mom woke up. She shoved the shampoo and conditioner into the bag, deciding it was best to be prepared.

As she moved back to the door, Stevie paused again, realising that her Dad might need some things as well. There was a sink in the toilet attached to the relative's room, he could brush his teeth and he'd probably appreciate a change of shirt and some deodorant. Moving back into the bedroom, she picked up his reading glasses and the book that was next to it, placing those carefully into the bag as well.

Placing the bag on the bed, Stevie looked around the room, wondering if she'd missed anything, her mind racing as she tried to run through what else they might need. She let out a shaky breath and shook her head, if she missed anything then she could get it tomorrow, she reminded herself. It wouldn't be a big deal. She zipped up the bag and sat down next to it, laying back and staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows casted by the light.

After a moment, she pushed her hand into the pocket of her jeans and dug out her mobile phone. She looked at the screen, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth as she pulled up Jareth's contact details. Her heart hammered in her chest. She needed to speak to him, she wanted to speak to him she corrected herself quickly. Before she could change her mind, she hit the call button, listening to the ringing, and silently hoping that it went to voicemail. It didn't. Jareth's tired voice answered after a few rings. "Stevie, are you ok?"

"Yeah," her voice came out as a nervous croak, and she cleared her throat before trying again. "I'm ok, I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh."

She heard him stifle a yawn and realised that she hadn't considered the time difference. "Oh, Jareth I didn't think about the time, it must be past midnight there."

"Half one according to my alarm clock." She heard him shuffle. "But it doesn't matter. How's your Mom?"

"She's out of surgery."

"Yeah, I saw the news update just before I came to bed."

Stevie felt another sickening jolt in the pit of her stomach, was that a dig? Or was she just overthinking. "I meant to call earlier-"

"It's ok, really. I shouldn't have had a go earlier."

"I should have called, I just got caught up."

"It's fine," he told her with a sigh.

She felt her stomach plummet, she didn't think that it sounded fine, but she was sure that mentioning it would just make everything worse. Her eyes began to water and she forced herself not to sniffle, suddenly not wanting him to know just how upset she was. "We got to see her," she told him after an awkward beat of silence.

"I'm glad. She must have been glad to see you all."

"She's not awake yet," Stevie admitted.

"Oh, sorry, I just assumed…the news was vague…"

"They're going to keep her sedated overnight, because of the surgery they want her lungs to rest."

"Right, but she's going to be ok?"

Stevie swallowed heavily. "They don't know, they've…they've said that…" the words stuck in her throat before a loud hiccupping sob tore loose.

Jareth shuffled again in the background and she could hear his bedcovers rustling. "Stevie, I'm so sorry. Look I was going to text you in the morning, but I've got a plane ticket, I leave in about 6 hours and I'll be home. I'll be with you."

Her sobs grew heavier, her nose streaming and she unthinkingly wiped at it with her sleeve. That thought should make her feel better, and yet she felt worse. "This was your chance to make up with your family," she choked out.

"On this one they understand, I promise. I'll text you when I land and you just tell me where to go, tell me where you need me to be."

Stevie felt as though the walls were closing in on her at his words, they were meant to be comforting, reassuring, they should be what she wanted to hear. "I should let you sleep," she finally snuffled. "If you have a flight…"

"I can stay awake."

"No, I…I'll see you tomorrow." She cut the call before he could protest, belatedly realising she hadn't said goodbye, never mind told him she loved him. At that last thought her stomach flipped and her crying intensified. She rolled onto her side, curling up into a ball, her hands curling into a fist against her parent's duvet.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and the bed dip, and she looked up to see Alison sitting on the bed. She curled against her back, her chin resting gently on her shoulder and whispered, "I heard you in the hall."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You want to talk?"

Stevie shook her head. "Not yet."

"Ok. Well I'm at least going to get you some tissues, your sleeve is soaking." Alison shuffled off the bed, the blanket that was draped around her shoulder dragging like a cape on the carpet behind her. Stevie forced herself into a sitting position for when Alison pushed the box into her hands, her head going back to Stevie's shoulder. The two sisters sat in a comfortable silence other than the sound of Stevie sniffing and blowing her nose.

Eventually Stevie croaked, "Jareth is flying back."

Alison gave her a sideways glance. "Oh."

"Yeah." She suddenly frowned towards the door. "Where's Jason?"

"Getting plates out. Will says he's bringing us across some dinner, he's on his way. That's what I came up to tell you."

"Right." Stevie crumpled a tissue in her palm. "I packed some stuff for Mom."

"Did you get her perfume?"

"No…I didn't think she'd need it."

"I read that they can spray it on the bedsheets," Alison told her. She leaned backwards, stretching out across the bed to grab the perfume bottle on the nightstand, pushing it into the bag. "You ready to come down?"

Stevie gave a nod. "Two minutes, I'll go and rinse my face. I'll get you down there." She watched Alison go, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and the pounding in her chest.


	17. Chapter 17

Henry blinked repeatedly and rubbed at his eyes, they felt gritty, as if sand had gathered in the corners whilst the fluorescent lights only worsened the feeling, adding to his already pounding headache. His eyes scanned across Elizabeth's still frame, and he shifted slightly in his seat when he saw suddenly saw her top lip move against the breathing tube; his first thought that he was imagining it. He stared at her intently, the seconds ticking by, until finally he saw her eyebrow flicker, her forehead creasing momentarily and felt her pinkie flex against the white, starched sheet. "Elizabeth, Babe, can you hear me?"

She didn't respond, her expression remaining unchanged, but the nurse looked up, asking, "Is everything ok?"

Henry didn't pull his eyes away from his wife, continuing to watch her for any sign that she had heard him. "She moved, she frowned. I know it, I saw it." The nurse walked across to the bed, her eyes moving between Elizabeth and the monitors. Elizabeth's forehead creased again, her cheek giving a small twitch. Henry leaned further forward at the movement, coming off the hard, plastic seat, one hand gripping hers as the other cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. "Elizabeth, I'm here." He looked at the nurse. "This has to be a good sign," he stated hopefully.

The nurse assessed the slightly elevated heart rate and blood pressure but kept her face steady and her tone level. "I think Elizabeth might be sore," she told him.

Henry felt his heart drop back into his stomach, for a few moments he'd found something positive to focus on. "But, surely it has to be a good sign," he repeated. "They said there might be some brain damage, that she might not wake up…" He swallowed against the lump in his throat as his grip on Elizabeth's hand momentarily tightened and his next words came out in a rush of breath, "But if she's moving, then does it mean that she's more likely to wake up?"

Her eyes were sympathetic as she replied softly, "Elizabeth is doing exactly what we'd want her to be doing right now. She is on a lot of sedation and that is at a dosage designed to keep her unconscious, so right now we have no way just to tell what is going to happen long term. I know you want answers, but we can't give any just now." Glancing up again at the monitor she told him, "I'm going to get another nurse so that I can give Elizabeth some extra morphine and make her more comfortable."

Henry was only just aware of her walking to the door and gesturing for one of her colleagues. He dropped back into and leaned against the hard back of the uncomfortable plastic chair, letting their low conversation about dosage drift over him. His eyes closed for a moment and he heard the beep of the machine and the soft clicks and whirs of it as it delivered its extra dose. He felt his eyes burn as his cheeks tightened and he fought against the rising fear that had gathered in his chest. As he heard the nurse's pen scratch across the paper, he opened his eyes again. Elizabeth's forehead was smooth once more, her face back to the expressionless mask that made him feel that he was sitting with a wax-work of his wife and not the vibrant woman he had spent the last thirty years with. He was being stupid, he told himself, he didn't want Elizabeth to be in pain, but he had just wanted to hope that it was a sign, that she was still in there and that she'd be coming back to him. His throat was dry and his voice sounded harsh when he asked, "All sorted?"

"It is." Her head tilted. "Why don't I see if I can get you a more comfortable chair?" she offered.

Henry shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Well you won't be if you spend all night hunched in that," she told him. "I'll see if someone can poach one of the high-backed padded chairs from the relative's room for you."

"You really don't have to."

"I know," she told him with a soft smile. "But lucky for you I'm going to do it anyway."

* * *

Alison shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen where her brother was clattering about with the plates, a collection of cutlery being thrown onto the counter next to them. She rubbed her nose with the edge of her knuckle as she eyed the chaos. "You haven't put out any forks," she told him.

Jason glanced back over at the pile of kitchenware and shrugged. "Get some in a minute. You tell Stevie about food?"

"Uh huh." Alison shifted on her feet. "Jareth is flying back; he'll be here tomorrow."

"That good or bad?"

"You'd think good, but she seemed pretty upset, so I'm going to lean towards bad." Alison sat down at the kitchen table, twisting on the chair and resting her chin on the wooden back.

"She could just, you know, tell him not to come out."

"I don't imagine that would go down well." Alison shifted, freeing some strands of her long hair from where they'd become trapped underneath her chin as she spoke. "I suppose you never know, maybe him being here will help."

Jason shot her a sceptical look from across the kitchen. "Or maybe they'll be have a screaming break up in a hospital waiting room." He banged some forks on the counter. "I know what one I'd put money on."

"I thought you liked Jareth."

"I don't not like him. I just don't think he's for Stevie." Jason pulled open the fridge, raking through it and extracting a packet of cooked ham, snatching a few slices that he then shredded with his fingers and dropped into his mouth.

Alison grimaced at her brother's actions. "We're getting dinner in like twenty minutes tops."

"Yeah, but I'm starving now," he told her, a slight grin on his face and his voice muffled through a mouthful of ham.

Shaking her head, Alison sighed as she flicked the subject back again. "So, why don't you think they're for each other?"

"Because in some relationships, not all, but some, someone thinks they're the star and that's what Jareth thinks." He sucked the remaining flavour of his impromptu snack off his thumb before continuing, "you can tell. I mean look at how he treats Stevie's internship, he doesn't see it as a big deal, not compared to his stuff." He leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I mean do you really see him hanging around if Mom doesn't wake up?"

"Mom's going to wake up," Alison told him forcefully.

"That's not what I meant." He ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick out at odd angles. "I just mean that it'll take away from him."

"He did give up going back to England for her," Alison pointed out.

"Yup, and they've fought non-stop ever since because it meant that he wasn't the priority." Jason levered himself up onto the kitchen island, perching on the edge as his feet clattered against the cupboard doors underneath as he swung his legs back and forth. "He's not a bad guy," he sighed. "But I really don't see tomorrow going well." He frowned and added quickly, "For Stevie."

"If Mom wakes up then Stevie might not care." Alison's nose wrinkled and her lips momentarily pursed as she followed that thought process and then added, "I mean she might not care straight away, I'm sure she'll care eventually."

"And then bam!" Jason clapped his hand off the counter-top. "Hospital waiting room break-up."

Alison rolled her eyes and found a tiny chip of loose paint on the seat of her chair to pick at. "I thought I might sleep down here tonight, just bring my duvet down and put some films on."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Just feel like it."

"Want company? Jason asked after a moment. "We could get the airbeds down from the top of the airing cupboard. Stevie could join in as well. I mean if we're going to wait this out then we may as well wait it out together. I know I'm not going to get much sleep tonight."

Alison smiled. "That sounds really good. I'll go and ask Stevie and get the duvets and pillows. You want to get the airbeds down?"

"Sure. It's either that or just eat more ham."

* * *

The new chair was more comfortable Henry admitted to himself, it certainly had eased the aching in his lower back and it was nice to be able to lean the side of his head on the slightly padded wing that curved out at the sides, but not so far that it impeded his view of Elizabeth. She hadn't moved again since the extra medication and although he couldn't shake that feeling of discontent and trepidation, he was relived to know that she was pain-free. His fingertips moved automatically down her wrist and over her hand, in a gentle caress that he repeated constantly, unsure if he was attempting to comfort her or reassure himself. He moved his fingers in a careful arc, around the clear plaster across her wrist that covered the plastic tip of the arterial line that jutted awkwardly out at a slight angle, then avoiding the attached line that looped around her thumb and back up towards the head of the bed again, the line held steady on the bed by small strips of clear adhesive tape. The jumble of wires attached to Elizabeth terrified him, the sheer magnitude of what was needed to tether her to life would hit him at short intervals and he'd force himself to draw back from that terrifying thought before it engulfed him.

There was a stir from outside the room, the low constant hum of the other machines in the ward and the other staff members as they moved calmly from one job to the next was now just background noise to Henry, but suddenly he became aware of the change in pitch. He could hear some, almost excited chatter echo up to the top end of the ward. He turned towards the door in time to see one of the secret service men step into the doorway. "Dr McCord, President Dalton is here," he informed him.

"Send him in," Henry told him, getting to his feet, a rush of pins and needles shooting up his left foot and ankle as he turned to the door.

Conrad stepped in and gave him a polite, if slightly strained smile. "Henry, you don't need to stand." His smile faltered as his gaze fell to Elizabeth. "How is she?"

"Stable." He gestured to the second chair on the opposite side of the bed. "Take a seat, Mr President."

"Right now, Conrad is fine." His tall frame folded into the chair, but he didn't relax, instead he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped so that he could rest his chin on them. "They're hoping to wake her up tomorrow?"

Henry dropped back into his chair. "That's the plan. I assume you've been told about the complications."

"I was updated," Conrad confirmed. "Lydia and I will keep her in our prayers tonight."

"That's kind of you."

There was a prolonged silence, it stretched awkwardly for at least a minute, the normally easy rapport between the two men falling away. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Conrad finally asked.

Henry levelled a stare across the bed, "You can call off your Chief of Staff."

"Russell did mention that you weren't amenable to his suggestion."

Henry's cheek twitched in anger, his fingers starting their trace of Elizabeth's arm and hand once again. "I don't know why you thought I would be."

"I didn't, but Russell thought it might spare some future upset. He won't bring it up again," the older man promised him.

"Good."

Conrad sat back slightly, and his knee began to bounce as his foot tapped out an agitated beat on the linoleum floor. "There's going to be an investigation into the FBI, we'll get to the bottom of why Merchant wasn't registered with the service as a credible threat."

A humourless smile crossed Henry's face, drawing his mouth upwards in a tight line. "Possibly because he wasn't a threat until I made him one."

"You had a gut feeling about him, of what he was capable of. The safeguards in place to protect Elizabeth failed and I promise that we'll find out why."

Henry didn't reply, his face set into grim mask as he looked back towards his wife.

The two men fell once more into silence, another few minutes ticking slowly by until there was a knock at the door and a young female doctor in a pair of blue scrubs stepped into the room, a red stethoscope hanging around her neck and her black hair pulled up off her face in a haphazard bun, strands of which were escaping and frizzing around her face. "Dr McCord, I'm Dr Garcia, I'm the registrar on call tonight."

She held out her hand and Henry stood to shake it, clearing his throat nervously as he asked, "Is everything ok?"

"It was just to give you a quick update, although," her gaze slid to the President and back again, "I can arrange to come back."

"No, whatever it is you can say it."

"It was just to let you know that we've had Elizabeth's most recent bloods back. The good news is that her blood gasses that measure lung function and oxygenation are positive however, I'm concerned that her haemoglobin levels are still quite low despite the transfusions given during surgery. So, I think the best course of action is to arrange a further blood transfusion for her overnight, we'll give another two units and then re-assess in the morning."

"Why is it still low?" Henry asked.

"Elizabeth lost a lot of blood before we could get her into theatre, and it's common for multiple transfusions to be needed both before and following surgery in that case. We can estimate how much she lost but can't be accurate in the circumstances. The good news is that her blood pressure and heart rate are stable, so I'm confident that we'll see an improvement following this line of treatment. I've spoken to blood bank and we should be able to start the first one in the next half hour." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose from where they had slipped downwards. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"If this doesn't work then what next?"

"Elizabeth's levels indicate that two units of blood should make a sufficient difference, although we can't rule out any further transfusions. If there isn't the improvement we expect or if her condition were too deteriorate then we may arrange a CT scan to look for any potential causes." She offered a reassuring smile. "Although I don't anticipate that it will be required."

"Ok." Henry nodded. "If that's what she needs…"

She lingered a moment, her gaze flickering once more to the other man in the room, before she spun on her rubber soled shoes and swept almost silently from the room.

Henry gave a heavy sigh. "It just feels like one thing after another," he told Conrad after a few seconds of charged silence. "Anytime I think that there's a chance she'll come through this, something else turns up."

"I can't imagine how you feel just now, but Bess is stubborn, she's a fighter and if anyone can come through this then it's her."

He wanted to agree with him, he knew his wife was strong-willed, but as this went on he could feel his faith that she could fight this and come back to them waver. His faith had always held before, had stood up to any test put to it, but he could feel it slipping away. If Elizabeth had any control in this then she would come through, he didn't doubt that. His worry was that it wasn't going to come down to her stubbornness or her willingness to fight. His worry was that she had no control and that she was going to slip away from him and all he was going to be able to do was sit and watch it happen.

* * *

Russell was lingering outside the door to the ward, his mobile in hand and a frown on his face when Conrad stepped out into the hospital corridor. For once he managed to tear his eyes up and away, falling into step with the President as he asked, "How is she?"

"Holding in there. I'm not convinced that the same can be said for Henry."

"No, he seemed on edge when I spoke to him. Never seen him so rattled and he didn't quote ethics at me even once. It was almost unnerving."

Conrad's gaze slid across to his Chief of Staff as he told him. "He's not happy with your suggestion about Merchant's plea deal, I think that one might be best left in the dust."

Russell gave an irate sigh. "I understand why he isn't happy about it, but it was a viable solution." His glare deepened as he turned his attention back to his phone, jabbing out a message on it. "Could have helped put this whole fiasco into a box and close the lid on it."

"I don't think this is something that will disappear with one news cycle."

"No, not one. But it would have stopped it rearing it's ugly head again in a few months. We know what's going to happen here. We are going to suffer every failing twice, once when it comes out and again during the trial. We could have just ripped the band-aid off and done it all in the one go, something I still think would have been preferable." He waved his hand. "But I get it, I will let it go." He pushed his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "So, holding in there? I think we'll leave that out of the next press release."

"I wish I could be more positive but seeing her like that…" Conrad's lips thinned, and he shook his head. "Seeing Henry brought so low, it's hard to keep the faith."


	18. Chapter 18

Will was more than used to hospitals, in fact he felt strangely comfortable in them. After all he'd spent more time in some variation of them, than he ever had anywhere else, so the eeriness of them at night didn't phase him. The quiet buzz of the artificial lights didn't nip at his head and he wasn't perturbed by the odd silence in what would normally be a bustling building. He steadied the strap of the leather overnight bag on his shoulder as he meandered towards the intensive care unit, taking a large gulp of his coffee, timing finishing it with passing a bin and dropping the paper cup into it.

He pressed the buzzer at the entrance to the ward and waited until he heard the small click of the door lock being freed. Intensive care was an odd place at night, they now dimmed their lights unless they were needed and so most beds were shrouded in gloom, a singular nurse moving silently around the slow, quiet beeping machines. This was in stark contrast to the one of the beds where they were lit up, multiple staff moving busily to the sharp cacophony of warning beeps and alarms. Will quickened his pace to a brisk march down the ward in place of his previous casual stroll outside of it. He didn't want what was happening to catch his attention, after all that patient deserved their privacy just as much as his sister did.

Elizabeth's room was quiet as he approached it, with only a dim glow emanating out into the main ward and he felt a small rush of relief at the lack of activity. Her security detail stood by the door, stiff backed, hands clasped in front of them and Will couldn't help but wonder if they ever so much as slouched, he suspected not. Henry on the other hand was slouched, his body angled towards Elizabeth, his hand over hers with his head resting on the wing of the chair. He looked as though someone had deflated him, he sagged at the middle, slumping to the side of his chair, and for a moment Will thought he had fallen asleep where he sat. Then he saw Henry's hand flex and move over Elizabeth's and he realised he was awake.

Will cleared his throat, drawing his brother in law's attention, he nodded his head to the bag he carried and lifted up the carrier bag clenched in the same hand and announced, "I brought back some supplies."

Henry's hand stayed where it was, but he pulled himself up straight, like a marionette being lifted by their strings back into action. He managed a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "How were the kids when you went back?"

"They were ok, took them some Thai food and they were tucking into that when I left. Although your sitting area looks like an explosion of cushions, they've decided to camp out downstairs together overnight and watch some films. I left just as the debate over what films started to heat up. Alison was pushing for some romantic comedies, and Jason was pushing for the Fast and the Furious." He placed the holdall on the floor next to the chair opposite Henry and sat down, adding, "Stevie was mediating though, so I'm sure they'll reach some form of compromise."

"She's her mother's daughter," Henry remarked, this time his smile lighting his eyes for the briefest of moments. "I always tried to tell Elizabeth that's why they used to clash so much."

"It also explains your Stevie whisperer nickname, you've always had the knack to calm Lizzie down, so being able to transfer that over to Stevie makes sense." Will let his gaze drift across his sister, noting the pallor of her skin, his eyes then taking in and assessing every number on the different machines. "I see they've started her on some more blood," he remarked, as he thought that might hopefully improve the waxy, white paleness of her colouring.

"Yeah." Henry rubbed tiredly at his forehead with his free hand as his head and shoulders bowed. "They said her haemoglobin was low, they think this should fix it."

Will gave a nod. "It should help." His clear, unwavering gaze turned to Henry. "And what about you? How have you been holding up?"

"As much as I can," he admitted.

Leaning back in his chair, Will looked him over assessing him in the same way he had his sister. Henry's clothing was rumpled, his tie long discarded and his top shirt button was undone, whilst his hair stood out at odd angles. His chin was darkening from his five o'clock shadow and his eyes were red rimmed and heavy, his cheeks and jaw pulled tight and his neck muscles slightly corded. In short he looked damned awful. "You look like Hell," he told him bluntly.

Henry gave a humourless chuckle at his words. "Yeah, well I've had better days."

"Hmmm. Well Sophie sent you some food and you look like you need it."

"I'm not really that hungry."

Will ignored him, pulling up the carrier bag and rummaging through it, talking as though Henry hadn't said anything, "Nothing hot I'm afraid, but a couple of wraps, some crisps, biscuits and even though I tried to stop her she's thrown some fruit in there as well." He pulled out a foil wrapped cylinder and held it across the bed to Henry.

He shook his head. "I appreciate the thought, but I really-"

"I'm not really asking," Will told him, shaking the wrap at him. "The kids need you and Lizzie needs you, and you're off no use to them if you starve yourself. Now eat it." He gave a smile of satisfaction when Henry reached out and took the proffered item. "Also I'm not telling Sophie you rejected her care package, it's not worth the earful I'll get for not looking out for you."

Henry picked at the foil, slowly peeling it back. "We can't have that."

"Absolutely not." Will handed him a bottle of water to go with his food.

"How are Sophie and Annie?"

Will's smile widened. "They're good, worried about Lizzie of course, but Sophie is keeping herself busy by keeping you fed and keeping Annie distracted."

"You told Annie?"

"Can't exactly keep away from the news, so felt it was best just to deal with it. She's actually dealing with it pretty well," Will admitted. "You can see she's worried, she's given me strict instructions to fix Lizzie and make sure that I'm home in time to take her to school, but she'll be fine."

"Good." Henry took a bite out of his wrap, chewing it slowly and swallowing, his shoulders visibly tightening as he then asked, "What's being said in the news?"

"There's some ongoing speculation about the enquiry into the FBI and some guesswork about what their role in it was, and they've named the guy of course."

"Anything about him?"

"Nothing yet, just his name." When Will heard Henry give a shaky sigh, he couldn't help but ask, "What is it?"

"President's Chief of Staff came to see me earlier. He thinks that press are going to twist that fact that he was Elizabeth's former student. Wanted to offer him a deal to get him to plead guilty, save a court case and cut the media off at the knees, and I told him no."

"What was the deal?"

"He hands over the name of a dealer along with entering a guilty plea and they take the death penalty off the table."

Will watched the muscle that twitched in Henry's cheek. "I thought you were against the death penalty?"

"I was…am…" Henry shook his head agitatedly, his eyes flickering to Elizabeth, fixing on her as he spoke, his voice taking on a hard, abrasive edge. "I know that it won't happen, even if that's his sentence, it won't happen. The last time they carried out the death penalty in DC was in 1957, and it's a year at most before they remove it from state law altogether. So even if I'd suddenly had a change of heart about my stance on it, it wouldn't matter, it would never really come to that."

"Then why not let them offer it. If you've said yourself that it won't happen then I don't understand why you've turned them down."

Henry's expression hardened; his eyes colder than Will had ever seen them. "Because I want him to suffer. The reason they think he'll take the deal is because he's afraid to die. I want him to feel fear. He shot my wife, he went to that park with the aim of killing her and in those moments after he fired that gun, she must have been afraid. I want him to feel that I want him to be scared."

Will felt his spine stiffen at the venom behind Henry's words. "This isn't you."

"I don't care if this isn't me. I won't let him feel like he won, like he has the power in this situation and we'll all dance to his tune. I know that whatever he says about Elizabeth will be a lie, designed to save his own skin and I won't let it work, I won't let him win," he repeated again.

Considering his words carefully before he spoke, Will's voice was soft and low as he implored Henry. "Don't let this eat at you, this will destroy you if you let it."

Henry's grip tightened on his wife's slack hand. "I promised Elizabeth that I would always turn up for her and I didn't The least I can do is make sure she gets justice."

Will sucked in a deep breath. "Look, I know the way guilt can eat at you. I let it gnaw away at me for years. Wishing that I had been able to find a way to go back and fix it. I would play the crash over and over again in my head, trying to play out how I could have saved my Mom. Then, when I was sixteen they made us read a Brave New World and there was this line in it, 'If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.' Now I can look back and know it wasn't my fault, but that's not how I felt then. So, I read that line over and over again, mulling over it. Wondering what I could do that would right the wrong I felt like I'd done and that's when I decided that even if I didn't save my Mom, I could save someone else's, I could fix my mistake by learning what I could have done and doing it. And so I became a trauma surgeon" He leaned forward and managed to catch Henry's gaze, his voice dropping to a quiet calming imploration, "You ran late for a lunch, you didn't let her down. If you need to, then find the thing you can improve and do it, but if you let this change you, let it define your principles and who you are, then Henry; he's won anyway and you know it."

Henry grimaced at his words and then shook his head; he could feel the sting of tears prickle behind his eyes. His voice was thick, his words catching in the back of his throat "She didn't deserve this."

"I know," Will acknowledged. "It's not fair, but don't let Lizzie wake up to find you like this."

The fear was back and clawing at him. When Henry looked at Elizabeth, he couldn't see the indomitable woman he'd married, instead he could just see her frailty, her vulnerability and he was scared. He had suffered loss before, but not like this. He knew life was unfair, had seen his friends fall in battle, but she'd always been there, and he'd thought she always would be. He never once thought she'd be ripped away from him with her life half lived. He couldn't even voice what worried him, afraid of what might happen if he did. Afraid he'd breathe life into the idea and it would take shape. He simply shook his head, turning his face away from Will's.

Will watched him, he looked bone weary. "You should go and get a few hours of sleep."

"It's only half past ten," he replied. "And I promised I wouldn't leave her."

"You promised she wouldn't be alone," Will pointed out saliently. "And I'll be sitting right here. Come on Henry, you need to rest. It's been a long day and I can promise you that the night's going to feel even longer."

"I don't think-"

"Sophie's even put in a travel pillow and blanket for you." Will interrupted, not waiting for him to give another excuse. "So, go and put your head down."

"What if something changes?"

"I will come and wake you. Henry at least go for a walk, get some fresh air." Will looked up at all the monitor's again. "The numbers are all fine, she's stable; you can go."

Henry hesitated, he wanted to stay, to be there for her, but a selfish part of him found sitting here a brand of torture. He couldn't do anything, couldn't help and he could feel his frustration mounting. He gave a nod. "Ok," he replied on a sigh. "I'll go for a bit."

"Go for as long as you need."

Will watched Henry lumber slowly and awkwardly towards the door, looking back as he went. Will waved him out encouragingly, belatedly realising that he hadn't made him take the food with him. He rolled his eyes at himself as he reached into the bag and pulled out the packet of Oreos. Waste not, want not.

* * *

The night air was cold and nipped at the tip of Henry's nose as he stood in the small portico next to the main entrance. He pushed his hands deep into the pockets, breathing deeply, feeling his headache ease. A lone smoker stood a few feet away from him, the smoke from their cigarette curling upwards in a long, white plume. The air catching it and carrying it across. It caught the back of Henry's throat and he coughed, earning himself a glower from the smoker.

He shifted out of the covered area and onto the main path, tilting his head so that he could look up at the sky. Large dark clouds covered any stars and he could hear the busy rush of the city, the tyres on the wet road and the distant squeal of sirens hanging in the night air. He felt a sudden yearning for their horse farm, for the quiet starry nights, where he and Elizabeth would sit on the porch, mugs of hot chocolate warming their hands. Elizabeth's head would press against his chest and he would sit with her in utter contentment.

A raindrop hit his cheek, the coldness startling him out of his thoughts as another drop landed in his hair. He drew his shoulders together, hunching momentarily as the wind began to pick up. Slowly, he turned back into the hospital. Not ready to go back, he just kept walking, letting his feet carry him until he found himself at the door to the hospital chapel.

The door was open and yet Henry hesitated, unsure if he'd find solace here or if it would just worsen his already flagging faith. Taking in a deep breath, he stepped inside. It was warmer, the air almost stuffy and perfumed by incense. The alter was set into an inlet at the back of the room. The only lights in the room situated above it, set into the ceiling, lending the room an ethereal glow. The wood of the cross attached to the back wall, gleaming in the soft light.

Henry ran his hand along the smooth edges of the pews as he walked towards the alter. Out of habit he crossed himself before dropping into the front pew. He sent up a silent prayer, choosing Jude Thaddeus, the patron saint of desperate causes to address his plea too. It's what he was, desperate, desperate for his wife to recover, desperate for his anger to subside and desperate for his faith to see him through this challenge.

The quiet, warmth of the chapel sunk into his bones and even after his prayer he kept his eyes closed, his head beginning to drop, his chin coming to rest on his chest as he gave into his tiredness and sleep claimed him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you for all your lovely reviews :)**

* * *

Will winced as he read the blurb of the book that his nieces had picked out for Henry, a theologian tome that had managed to bored him witless in only those few lines. The magazines offered by the nursing auxiliary, although trashy and the pages creased and well thumbed, looked like the less evil option. Tossing the book back into the holdall, he picked one up, lounging back into his chair and swinging his legs up and over the opposite arm, so that his feet dangled in mid-air. He caught sight of Elizabeth's nurse lifting her head from her mountain of paperwork and raising an eyebrow at him. "Against the rules?" he queried.

She gave a smile. "Probably," she told him, her lips giving a conspiratorially twist. "But I'll overlook it."

"Great," Will returned her smile and proffered the biscuit packet. "Want one? Consider it a token of thanks for your silence."

"It's kind of you, but I just ate my weight in pasta on my break, so I'll give it a miss."

"Well if you change your mind then just help yourself, especially round about the 3am slump." Will took a biscuit for himself, crunching on it as he leaned his head back and peered once again at Elizabeth's monitors. "She seems to be doing a lot of the work herself, breathing wise, I mean."

There was a nod. "She's doing well."

"Is there a plan in place for exubation the morning?" When he saw nurse's eyebrow quirk, he added, "I'm a trauma surgeon across at Walter Reed."

"Ah." She gave a nod, that explained his constant perusal of the monitors and his ease in the ward; it wasn't what she expected from relatives, her husband's tense frame and awkward silences were much more in line with that. "There will be an anaesthetic and surgical review in the morning round, they'll assess how she's been overnight and decide then how best to proceed."

"Ok." Will nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tapping against the magazine. "You know, it's odd to be sitting on this side of things. I'm trying not run everything through my head like it's one of my cases at work." Shifting, he rubbed his finger against the bridge of his nose. "Although I'm not sure it's working all that well."

"Let me guess, you already have a plan of action in your head?"

Will held his fingers an inch apart. "Little bit," he admitted guiltily. "But I promise not to write it down for them." A sly smile pulled at his lips at his words, no consultant liked to be needled and prodded by another.

She gave a small snort, shaking her head at him. "Why am I not convinced by you?"

"Because you've probably met so many of us that you know exactly what we're like. Territorial." His grin widened. "Anyway, I won't need to leave notes, I plan to be here to annoy them in person."

"I shall warn the dayshift nurse," she teased, then looked up towards the monitors she tapped her pen once, twice against her desk. "Although, lets face it, they would all do the same in this situation."

"Of course they would." He gave a slight, humourless smile, his head tilting back so he was glancing at the ceiling. "But I have to admit, being able to run the numbers, knowing what all of this is," his hand gestured across the expanse of medical equipment. "That it makes all of this that little bit easier, because when I do that, I can forget that it's my sister in the bed."

"One of the benefits of our training," the nurse mused. "The ability to detach yourself in an emergency." She placed her pen down, leaning forward on her elbows, one foot balanced on the bar along the bottom of the table, the other anchoring it's wheels in place by resting on the floor. "Are you close?"

"I think so, Lizzie would probably say otherwise." Will caught sight of the expression of surprise on her face and gave a chuckle. "Not because she dislikes me, but because I have…had a tendency to go off grid for long spells." He looked over at the bed and smiled, reaching out to rest his hand over his sister's. "But she was always there, graduations, birthday's and Christmas. And when I stopped turning up for the latter or was deployed abroad, she was always just at the other end of a phone when I needed her. Ready to jump if I ever asked." His fingers curved around Lizzie's, giving them a soft squeeze. "She was the dependable one out of us, always was. She would tell you she had to be, but even before that, she was the same." He looked up at her still expression, remembering every bickering conversation they'd had, the exasperation with him she could never quite conceal. "She'd call me irresponsible, accuse me of running away, tell me that I was taking the easy way out." His smile widened. "Not at every phone call, but in a fair few, and she wasn't wrong." He tapped his fingers against hers, his next words addressed to Lizzie. "Although if you remember a word of this then I will of course be denying it all and blaming it on ICU psychosis."

"I'm not sure you'll get away with that," the nurse warned him, a note of humour in her tone before she turned serious. "So, what made you run away?"

"It was easier. It was just the two of us left and Lizzie's answer to that was to pull me closer, or at least she tried to. I had the opposite reaction and pulled away…" He broke off and shook his head, aware that he was beginning to voice thoughts that he'd spent the last thirty four years trying to block out. "Sorry, I shouldn't be boring you with this."

"It's not boring."

"Nice of you to say, but family issues are always boring." He shot her a polite smile, his tongue had run away with him; the tiredness must be taking it's toll on him, he decided. He pulled his hand slowly away from Lizzie's and holding up his magazine, he told the nurse lightly, "Much more interesting to read about celebrity scandals."

She gave him another smile and sensing his sudden discomfort and picking up on his cues, she picked up her pen and went back to her paperwork.

Will stared back down at his magazine, dwelling on his words. For Lizzie, her family was everything and she pulled them close to her, fearful of losing anyone again. He had feared the same, but his reaction was to not let anyone in. They were the two side of the same coin.

It was just like he had told Sophie; he had thought he would go first; he'd been prepared for it and the thought of dying didn't frighten him. It was only now he might be the one left standing that he regretted turning down all the invitations to the various family events that Lizzie had pleaded with him to turn up to. It was only now he realised that shunning these things hadn't made him less vulnerable, just gave him more regrets. If she pulled through this, then he would turn up to anything she wanted to badger him into, he decided firmly.

* * *

It was the burning ache in his right hip that woke Henry, and he gave a groan as he opened his eyes, thrown off balance by his unfamiliar surroundings, by the warm stuffiness of the room's air. For a blissful three seconds, confusion reigned, and the events of the day were nothing but a brief nagging sensation on the periphery of his mind as he glanced around the chapel. His eyes rested on the dimly lit cross and it all rushed back to him with a sickening lurch. It felt like it should all have been just a surreal dream, that he should have been waking up in his own bed, with Elizabeth curled up next to him. Instead he found himself curled up on a hard chapel pew, alone.

Blinking, he shifted as he realised that the edge of his watch was digging into his cheek and winced at the dull, nagging pull in his neck. He'd fallen asleep upright, he remembered belatedly, before shifting to try and make himself slightly more comfortable. Clearly that hadn't worked for long.

Henry pulled himself into a seated position, his hip screaming at him as he moved. He rubbed his cheek and could feel the indented line pressed into the skin of his cheek from his watch. Looking down at the offending item, Henry's stomach rolled, and he felt a jolt of panic when he saw it was almost half past one in the morning. He'd been asleep for almost three hours. Digging his hand into his jacket, he pulled out his phone, noting in dismay that it was out of battery.

Panic forced him onto his feet, and he lurched unsteadily, rushing from the room, his shoes skidding and squealing on the linoleum as he took the corner coming out of the chapel too quickly. The pain in his hip and the ache in his neck were forgotten, numbed by fear and adrenaline. Anything could have happened to Elizabeth and Will wouldn't have known where to find him. His heart pounded in his chest as he fought to remember just how the corridors weaved and what direction to take. The chill in the hospital corridor, caused him to shiver, for the flesh of his arms to goose-pimple. His teeth were set on edge from both the cold and from the tendrils of fear that had crept around his chest, squeezing it tightly.

When he got to the unit, the wait for the ward entrance to unlock felt like an age. The ward was quiet, cocooned in darkness other than the glow of the machines at each bed. He was breathless by the time he got to the door of Elizabeth's room, slumping in the frame when he saw that she was just how he left her, relief flooding through him.

Will barely looked up from where he was lounged across a chair, a blanket draped around his shoulders and a magazine open across his lap. "Fall asleep?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah." Henry carded his hands through his hair, the tightness in his chest starting to slowly ease

"Then wake up, realise how long you'd been away and panic," he stated, his eyes returning to his reading material.

"And for good measure also discovered that my mobile is out of battery," Henry admitted.

"Ah." Will's nose wrinkled slightly guiltily. "I should have said, the kids packed your charger." He gestured towards the holdall. He looked up again, his gaze flickering over Henry. "You feel any better for your sleep?"

Henry mused over that question, his head felt less leaden, but other than that he felt much the same, mired in the same despair he felt before he left. "Little bit," he mumbled non-committedly. He winced as his hip gave a sharp tug when he went to sit back down. "How is she?"

"No change, just like I promised." Will took a sip of water. "I on the other hand have suddenly became aware that you came third place in TMI'S Arm Candy US government edition." He grinned across at him, his eyes twinkling in unrestrained delight. "My belated congratulations, if I'd known sooner, I would have sent a card."

Unable to smother a smile in response, Henry remarked, "I wouldn't have thought your interest lay in gossip rags." His hand ran over Elizabeth's as he spoke, as though checking that she wasn't just a mirage in front of him.

"Well when the choice was between that or Summa Theologica, it seemed the lesser of two evils. Do you and my sister ever indulge in any light reading? Or does it always have to be something meaningful and dreadfully dull?"

"I was re-reading it to pull out some points for my next book."

"Hmm." Will gave a nod as he looked back down at his magazine, muttering, "Dreadfully dull it is then."

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his brother in law. "So, nothing happened while I was away?"

"I did eat all the Oreos, but in my defence, you were gone for hours and my sugar levels drop when I'm tired. So that was really born out of necessity." When he heard Henry's long-suffering sigh, he added, "Sorry, thought you meant with me. Because, like I told you," He met Henry's gaze meaningfully, each word a short staccato, "Lizzie. Is. Fine."

Henry sank back slightly in his chair, his hand still grasping Elizabeth's his thumb running over her wedding band, where he could feel the slight residue from the surgical tape they'd placed over it whilst she is in theatre. "Sorry, I just panicked, I didn't mean to be away for so long. I was worried something had happened and you hadn't been able to find me."

Thumbing across to the next page in his magazine, Will remarked, "Family room is only in the corridor."

"That's not where I went."

"Chapel?"

"Yeah." A frown crumpled Henry's features. "But how did you guess?"

Will held up on hand, a finger jumping up at each point he made. "Um, Catholic. Religion and ethics professor. Obsessed with churches. Also, you feel guilty and you want absolution for that. Really the chapel is the obvious choice." He glanced up at him. "If it were the other way round, I would have found Lizzie in the canteen, guarantee it."

Henry managed another smile. "She's much better at all nighters than I am."

"That'll be the sugar and caffeine." Will yawned as he spoke, stretching his arms up and back.

"What time you taking Annie to school?"

"Thought I'd leave here about seven, get home for about half past and then I can have breakfast with her. Be back here for the morning round."

"Then why don't you go home now and get some sleep?"

Will looked across at him, giving a slow shake if his head. "Said I'd stay with you."

"You need some sleep as well."

"Can get that in the relatives room."

"It won't be the same." He looked at Elizabeth and swallowed back the lump in his throat, his voice slightly raspier at his next words. "You said yourself that she's fine. So go and get some proper rest."

Will looked thoughtful. "It's tempting," he admitted. "But won't you miss my shining company?"

Henry have a soft snort. "I'll cope."

His lips twisted as he considered the offer, realistically it made sense. Once again, he looked up at the monitors to see the same numbers staring back at him as before. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Ok, well let me get you a coffee first."

"You're going to bankrupt yourself at those coffee machines."

Will swung his legs back to the floor, shrugging the blanket from his shoulders. "Actually, I can go one better, turns out there's a twenty-four-hour coffee cart in the canteen. So, you can have a real coffee."

The sound of the nurse's chair scraping against the floor, interrupted them. "We're due for another turn and to top up some of the syringes again, so that sounds like perfect timing."

Henry hesitated, he'd only just got back to Elizabeth and he was loathed to leave her again. It was Will's hand tapping against the top of his arm that caught his attention. He gestured with his head encouragingly towards the door. "C'mon, this stuff needs done."

His lips drew momentarily into a thin line. "Ok, but bring your things with you and I'll arrange a car for you."

"Done."

* * *

Ellie pressed the pillow against her, fluffing it before she pushed it into Elizabeth's back. "Ok, I'll watch the tube, you can roll her back now."

Niamh slowly let go of Elizabeth's shoulders and hips, letting her sink back onto the folded pillow, her thin fingers moving a strand of blonde hair gently off Elizabeth's cheek. She began to pull the sheets back across her, lifting Elizabeth's arms so they could rest on the outside.

During this Ellie leaned across the bed, unhooking the tubing from it's metal holder and swinging both gently across to the other side so that it didn't obscure Elizabeth's face, before clipping it securely back into place.

Niamh glanced up at the monitor, her lips pursing thoughtfully. "Did you give her an O2 boost before we turned?"

"Course I did." Ellie followed her colleagues gaze to the monitor, her mouth rounding slightly in surprise. "Sats have dropped to 95%." She craned her neck to look at the ventilator. "Tidal volumes are down slightly and so are her spont breaths."

Niamh turned Elizabeth's wrist outwards so her arterial line didn't press into her skin. "She might just be tired. She's been doing most of it for herself."

"True."

"What are her parameters for oxygen?"

"Aim for sats of above 96%, can titrate oxygen between 30-50%, if her requirements go up any further than that then get blood gasses."

"She's only at the 30, maybe put her to 40 and see if that helps. She's still well within the range they want."

"Yeah." Ellie leaned across the ventilator and turned unlocking the screen, turned the oxygen setting up. "I've drawn up the propofol, can you check and sign for it?" she asked as she reached for the stethoscope dangling from the IV stand.

"Sure." Niamh whistled tunelessly under her breath as she twirled the glass bottle underneath her fingers, checking the date and batch number against the bright yellow label that had been attached to the filled syringe. Signing her initials on the label and on the prescription chart, she looked up to see Ellie frowning, slowly edging the stethoscope out of her ears. "Problem?"

"Left side sounds a bit quieter."

Niamh gestured for the stethoscope and adjusted it into her ears before leaning across, and sliding it across Elizabeth's chest, listening to both sides. Straightening, she said, "Both sides audible, but lower left might be a bit duller."

"Rest of her obs are ok. Heart rate's up very slightly, but only from 65 to 76." Ellie tapped her fingers against the table. "She didn't get furosemide in between her units of blood; she could be slightly overloaded."

"That sounds the most likely, I'll page, get someone to write her up for some." She hung the stethoscope back over the stand and turned to see that Ellie was still watching the monitors with a frown on her face. "You don't look convinced."

Ellie shook her head and then sighed. "It's nothing. You're probably right." She ran her finger down a column of numbers. "Her fluid input is definitely higher than her output, she's probably in a bit of fluid overload, it's making her work harder and she's getting tired."

"It's easily fixed. Any changes and let me know, we can call for a review."

Her lips pulled thin, her eyes scanning the numbers again as she ran through multiple scenarios in her head and then discarded each of them for now. She was stable, she told herself again. Everything was in the normal range. Ellie rubbed her eyes, night shift was playing tricks on her, she picked up the syringe of propofol and set herself back to work.

* * *

Henry and Will walked along the long corridors towards the entrance. Henry flexed his cold fingers against the warmth of his coffee cup, feeling it ease the ache in his joints. He took the smallest sip of the scalding liquid, feeling it sear and catch at the back of his throat.

Will gave a sigh. "You sure you don't mind me going?"

"I'm positive," Henry told him. "You have Annie to entertain in," he checked his watch, "about five short hours."

Will gave a snicker. "I was planning on letting her have her chocolate cereal. I've discovered that a lot of parenting is just doing whatever it takes to get through the day."

"How does Sophie feel about that?"

His head tilted one way and then the next as he thought through his response. "Depends on the day...and if she catches me out." He zipped up his jacket as they got closer to the entrance. "You know, I don't think I appreciated just how easy you and Lizzie made parenting look."

Henry shot him an incredulous look. "You can't have been paying much attention." He let out a bark of laughter. "When Stevie was born we didn't have a clue what to do, sometimes we just used to look at her in panic. And I hate to tell you, it just gets harder as they get older." He gave a shake of his head. "You won't be able to bribe her with chocolate cereal soon."

Will gave a pained sigh. "Better make the most of it while I can then."

"The both of you just muddle on through." He took another sip of coffee. "At least that's what we did."

Will's lips pulled tight, his eyes narrowing as he stared ahead of himself before he admitted, "Sophie and I don't always see eye to eye on a lot of this parenting stuff. I wasn't involved for so long, not properly, she has all her ways of dealing with Annie and they all work; for her."

"They don't for you?"

"Sometimes. Feel like a bit of a heel even saying this. Sophie has been amazing today and I am lucky to have her, she's put up with a lot." He scuffed his shoe against the floor, his pace slowing as they neared the automatic door, a hand running through his hair. "Everything that's happened today, it's made me think about how I've been living my life." He sucked in a breath between teeth. "But you don't need to hear about that."

"Look man, I get it." Henry replied. "I've done nothing but second guess every decision that might have got us to here."

"I had noticed. But there's one big difference."

Henry looked at him, a shadow of confusion across his eyes. "What's that?"

"I don't always make Sophie happy and I can see it. You make Lizzie ecstatic, you always have and she had the confidence to live her life exactly the way she wanted to." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over his next words. "When I say you shouldn't feel guilty, I mean it because I don't think there could have been anyone else on this earth who could have made her happier." He clapped Henry on his arm. "Anyway, I suppose I should get home and you should get back to her."

As he turned to leave, Henry called him back. "Will, you have time and if the bones are good, then you can fix anything."

"I'll keep it in mind." He lifted his hand in a small wave. "I'll see you in the morning. Oh and try the magazines, some of those stories are mind-boggling."


	20. Chapter 20

Henry was surprised to find that the nurse was standing by Elizabeth's bedside when he returned, a syringe in one hand and the line attached to Elizabeth's neck in the other. "Everything alright, Ellie?" he asked, a cold prickle crawling up the nape of his neck, the hairs on his forearms standing on end.

She looked up, her face calm, impassive. "It's fine, just some extra medication."

Despite the softness of her tone, Henry couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. His gaze drifted to Elizabeth, trying to reassure himself with the fact that she looked the same as she had before he left. Although considering how unwell she was, it wasn't much of a comfort. "What's it for?"

"When we have to give a large volume of blood over a short time, we often give a drug known as a diuretic alongside it. It helps prevent against a side effect where the circulatory and breathing systems are overloaded from the extra volume of fluid from the blood transfusion." She gave him a small, reassuring smile, "It's normal for us to make the decision to give this medication."

Henry chewed his lower lip for a second, unsure if he wanted to know the answer to his next question. "Is Elizabeth suffering from those side effects?"

She mulled over her next words before she answered, "We can't calculate exactly how much fluid Elizabeth lost today, although we have an estimate. But even with that estimate our charts show that because of the amount of blood and fluid we've given to treat her, her fluid input is quite a bit higher than her output. We don't think she's having a reaction but she's working a little bit harder than she had to before, so we want to be cautious."

His grip tightened on his coffee cup. "What do you mean she's working harder?"

"She's needing a little bit more oxygen and she's letting the ventilator do a little bit more of the work."

"That sounds like she's worse." Henry could hear the panic in his own voice, the sharp edge of fear creeping in. To him Elizabeth looked no different, and the numbers on the screens were just that; they meant nothing to him.

"She's still stable." Ellie's voice remained calm, level. "This is precautionary."

Henry swallowed against the lump in his throat. "And if it doesn't work?"

"If things stay as they are just now, we wouldn't be worried. If she needs more support, then we have certain criteria where we would ask the medical staff for an early review." Her smile turned encouraging, "But we're not there yet."

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Henry frowned. "So, she's still stable?" he clarified.

"She is."

Henry tried to make himself relax, but his shoulders stayed stiff, his neck muscles tense. "Ok." He gave a short shake of his head, his hand running through his hair. "I'm sorry if I sound a bit…sharp, I just…this is all…"

"Worrying and upsetting?" Ellie supplied for him.

His lips gave a brief twist. "Yeah, you could say that." He watched as she switched the syringe for one filled with saline, flushing the line clear, before twisting it away, her fingers deftly clamping that part of the line shut.

He placed his coffee cup on the bedside locker, now unable to stomach the thought of another sip, and gave a shaky sigh. Ellie nodded her head towards it. "You might want to finish that. The next few hours are going to drag, the perils of an all-nighter."

"It already feels like the longest night ever," Henry remarked, as he stepped closer to his wife's bed, his hand resting on her head, stroking her forehead with his thumb. His fingers trembled as he spoke, "Maybe I shouldn't have sent Will home."

"You all need some rest, there would have been nothing for him to do here. It was a good decision," she reassured him.

"But now she's worse."

"This is a precaution," Ellie reminded him. "And anyway, none of us have the ability to predict the future, you made the decision based on what you knew at the time."

Henry watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Elizabeth's chest, her skin warm underneath his touch. "I seem to be getting a lot of those decisions wrong today," he muttered.

Ellie had removed her gloves, turning the tap at the sink on with her elbow, her silence almost considered. The splashing of the water on the porcelain sink almost drowned out the quiet whoosh of the ventilator. There was click from the soap dispenser and as her fingers twisted together, gliding over her palms and wrists, she finally spoke. "You know very few people who end up in here start the day thinking that this is how it will end. The exception to the rule being our planned post-operative patients." She rinsed her hands, shaking the excess water back into the sink before grabbing a paper towel. "Their families are never prepared for it either. But," she threw the paper towel into the bin, the lid closing with a clunk. "There's always guilt, always questions about what they could have done to change the outcome. The answer to that is that there isn't anything they could have done. It was a cascade of decisions and chance or in some cases just sheer dumb bad luck. It's human nature to want to place blame, to find a fault in ourselves and our actions." She shrugged. "But sometimes life isn't fair and it doesn't make sense."

"So, you think I should stop trying to look for reason in this?"

"Pretty much, you won't find it. The important thing is that you're here with her, is there anything else she'd want right now than you sitting with her? Holding her hand?"

Henry considered her words. "No," he admitted after a moment. Elizabeth would want him with her, that he had no doubt about.

"Then for tonight, just focus on that."

He nodded, his hand moving from Elizabeth's head as he slowly sat down in his chair and reached for her hand again. His fingers brushed across the back of her hand before sliding underneath her palm, lifting it from the bed, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and giving another silent prayer that she was going to come back to him and that he could make all of this up to her.

* * *

Stevie woke up and was suddenly aware of the quiet sound of singing. Why was there singing? While light was flickering in, seeping underneath her still closed eyelids. She gave a soft groan and buried her face further into her pillow for a brief second as she slowly adjusted to her surroundings. It was the TV, she was in the family room, she reminded herself.

Blinking her eyes slowly open, she tilted her head back towards the TV to see characters dancing across the screen. She rolled quietly onto her side and reached for her phone to see that Jareth had sent her a text message.

 _At the airport, flight leaves in two hours._

 _See you soon._

Stevie stifled another groan, her fingers running through her hair, her fingers curling into the strands and the heel of her hand pressing against her forehead. She felt sick, her stomach churning at the thought of seeing him later, at the thought of having to make conversation. It wasn't good that this was her reaction to her fiancé's decision to come home and support her, she knew that. She lifted her phone again, typing out the beginning of a reply and discarding it, repeating this four times before she let her arm drop; giving a large sigh and letting her phone fall to the side.

"Jareth?"

Stevie twisted at the quiet whisper of her sister's voice to find that Alison was lying on her stomach, her arms folded over her pillow, her fingers picking at the packet of sweets they had hauled out of the cupboard earlier. "Yeah, how did you guess?"

Alison shrugged, looking away from the TV and rolling to face Stevie, her voice low. "Easy guess, that seems to be your new Jareth face." She popped a sweet into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I preferred the old one."

There was a yawn from the third makeshift bed, Jason's arms stretching up into the darkness of the room. "I dunno, it was very lovesick puppy dog," he remarked. "Made me want to vomit a little bit."

Giving a snort, Alison told him, "Considering the dopey look you get on your face when anyone mentions Piper, you have a cheek."

"I get no such look."

Stevie sighed and rolled her eyes. "You guys, I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"You sure? Now is your chance to vent," Alison offered.

"Or you know," Jason shrugged. "Text him and tell him not to bother getting on that flight."

"Jason!" Stevie gasped indignantly. "I'm not going to say that to him!"

There was a rustling of covers. "Why? You don't want him here."

Stevie chewed on her bottom lip, if it was obvious to her fifteen-year-old brother then that really wasn't a good sign. "It's not that I don't want him here," she started carefully. "It's just…" she tailed off, unable to find another explanation for her feelings. She let out a huff of air. "You're too young to get it," she finally told him after a prolonged silence.

He gave a snort at that. "Right, if you say so."

In the dancing light emanating from the TV, Stevie could see her brother folding his arms across himself and decided that it was best to just change the subject. "Have either of you had any sleep?"

Alison shook her head, reaching for another sweet. "Nope. You passed out partway through Aladdin, I'm not sure when Jason fell asleep."

"I didn't."

Alison shot a curious glance across at her brother. "You've been awake this whole time? And you let me put Mama Mia on?"

He gave a shrug. "I wasn't that bothered." He chose not to mention that he'd heard her crying and sniffling into her pillow and decided that anything was better than listening to his sister cry.

"Maybe he secretly likes it," Stevie teased.

The pillow sailed through the air, landing straight on her face with a muffled thud. "I don't like it," Jason told them. "I just know it's Ali's go to cheer up movie. So, I thought I'd let her watch it."

"Aw, Jase, that's really quite sweet of you," Alison replied.

"Don't go on about it," he groaned. "It's just like when we let Mom watch infomercials when she gets stressed. Sometimes it's easier to sit through those than deal with the alternative."

Stevie reached her hand across to tickle her brother's shoulder. "I think you're just a big softie hiding under a layer of government conspiracies and anarchism."

"Why couldn't I have had brothers?" Jason groaned, ducking out of the way of his sister's hand.

"I often wonder why Mom and Dad couldn't stop at two," Alison teased him.

"Saving the best for last," he shot back, pulling himself into a sitting position and crossing his legs, leaning back against the sofa. "What time is it anyway?"

"Almost 2am," Stevie told him, yawning as she did so.

"You heard anything from Dad?" Alison asked her.

"Nope," she shook her head. "But I figure no news is good news." She glanced across at her sister. "Right?"

"Probably," Alison conceded, sighing, and reaching for another sweet. She nudged the packet towards her siblings. "Want one?"

Jason leaned forward, grabbing a small handful, and cramming them into his mouth.

Stevie watched her brother and pointed out, "Should you both maybe lay of the sugar and try and get some sleep."

"Can't sleep," Alison mumbled.

"Me neither," Jason admitted. "Can't stop thinking about Mom." He looked upwards towards the ceiling, his nose wrinkling in thought. "You ever notice how she never really talks about Gran and Grandad?"

"I don't think she had anyone to talk to about them," Stevie remarked, chewing on the side of her thumbnail as she spoke.

"She had Uncle Will," Jason reminded her.

"I don't think he wanted to talk about it. I've never heard him mention them at all. She probably just got used to not talking about them…or maybe it hurt too much."

There were a few seconds of silence, one…two…and then, "If Mom doesn't wake up…do you think we'll do that, stop talking about her?" Alison asked, her gaze not meeting her older sister's. Instead she ran her fingers across the floor, watching the swirling motion she made, fighting back the tears she could feel starting to build up behind her eyes again. She pulled her face tight, trying not to give into that urge to cry.

Stevie chewed her bottom lip as she considered that question. It would hurt, but it would hurt more not to talk about her, to push her to one side and never mention the gaping hole left in their family. "I think we'll talk about her. In fact," her voice grew stronger, conviction sinking into her tone. "I'll make sure we do."

Despite her best attempt not to, Alison gave a sniff. "I can't believe this is happening to us."

"Me neither," Stevie admitted, twisting her engagement ring round and round on her finger. Her head hurt, a throbbing pain at the side of her temples, not helped by the way she was tensing her jaw muscles, sucking her cheeks in to try and stay calm.

Jason flopped back down onto his air mattress with a heavy sigh. "I wish I'd hugged her this morning," he finally told them, a croaky edge to his voice, his finger scratching absentmindedly at the material to the mattress.

"I didn't hug her either," Stevie told him.

"Yeah, but at least you weren't being a jerk to her."

Alison lifted her head up, her hand pushing back her dark hair when it fell like a sheet over her face. "She's probably used to us being jerks."

"Aw well, that's alright then," Jason remarked, rolling his eyes, wincing when Alison leaned across Stevie and slapped her hand against his shoulder.

"I'm trying to make you feel better," she told him.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's ok." She told him, a second passing before she added. "I don't think you'd feel any better even if you had hugged her. This would still suck."

"It does suck," Jason agreed.

"Well we can all hug her when she wakes up," Stevie told her younger siblings. "And promise her that we'll stop being jerks."

Jason sucked in a breath between his teeth. "And if-"

Stevie didn't let him finish. "Don't. We have to be positive. She's made it this far." She rolled onto her stomach. "Ok then, pass the sweets. If I'm going to listen to Pierce Brosnan murder some Abba, then in the absence of alcohol I'm going to need sugar.

* * *

Ellie hated 3am in the morning, it always seemed the time when the shift seemed endless, stretching ahead with the morning shift still hours away. She stifled a yawn into the sleeve of her cardigan, before shrugging it off, supressing a shiver. That was another thing, it was always freezing at this time of night, or at least she was always cold no matter how many layers she wore.

Grabbing her clipboard, she made for the bed, relieved to see that Dr McCord was now dozing in his chair, his head tilted off to one side, his wife's hand still loosely clutched in his.

She looked up towards the monitor and watched as Elizabeth's saturations flickered between 94% and 95%, she crossed her fingers and then sighed in defeat when they finally settled on the 94%. Typical, she thought. She turned the oxygen up once again.

Her blood pressure was down, but only a little bit and her heart rate was lingering around 85. Her respiratory rate was up slightly now, but the tidal volume was still lower, one positive was at least that hadn't changed. She moved round to the right side of the bed and checked the chest drain. Grabbing the stethoscope, she murmured, "Just going to have a listen to your chest now Elizabeth, this might be a bit cold." Her left side was still quiet. Ellie chewed her lip; she had that slight tug of unease again. She hated 3am she decided, and not for the first time during a night shift.

Jotting down the last of the observations, she made her way to the doorway, beckoning for Maggie, one of the floating nurses to come across. "Everything alright?" Maggie asked her.

"I'm not sure," Ellie admitted quietly. "Can you page for a review? Oxygen requirements are going up, I'm going to take some blood gases."

Maggie glanced over her shoulder into the room. "Of course. You need a hand?"

"I'll need someone to run the bloods to the analyser."

"I'll come back and get them."

Ellie turned, her foot tapping agitatedly against the floor. It wasn't that bad, she told herself again. She ran her hand through her hair, moving to the supplies trolley in the room and gathering up what she needed. The drawers rattled as she closed them and she saw Dr McCord jerk from the noise, his head drawing upright, his eyes looking over to the source of what had woken him up. "Sorry," she offered quietly.

He blinked a few times, his eyes darting between Elizabeth and Ellie. "What is it?"

"I'm going to take some blood from Elizabeth," she told him calmly. "And I've asked the doctor to come up and review her."

He ran his hand across his jaw, his stubble scraping across his palm. "The medication didn't help then?"

"She had a good response to it, so it will have helped, but it's not been enough," Ellie admitted.

"So, what next?" He asked with a pained expression.

"I've paged the doctor to come up and review her and I'm going to take some bloods. Would you like to wait in the relative's room while we do that?"

"No." Henry shook his head. "I'm not leaving her."

"Ok, but I need to you to move back from the bed. It's just that I can get into the line in Elizabeth's wrist."

"Of course." Henry jumped from his seat, stepping back from the bed to let Ellie in, watching her anxiously.

* * *

Dr Lewis Monaghan stifled a yawn as he made his way into the ICU. He had been dreading this page all night and had silently hoped he would get through the shift without being called to this particular patient.

The room was still dully light when he walked in. The Secretary's husband was standing by her bed, holding her hand, and stroking her face. He supressed a sigh, worried relatives made his job worse and it was one of the few benefits of a nightshift that they often weren't present.

Glancing at Ellie, the assigned nurse, he kept his tone low as he asked, "So. What's been happening?"

She gave him a quick look up and down. "Where's Dr Garcia?"

"Poly-trauma in the ER, everyone else is caught up down there. Three car collision."

"Ah."

He was glad she had accepted the explanation without an argument, he was under no allusion that the nursing staff were ever too pleased to see the intern lumbering up to the bedside of their patients. "So…you wanted a review."

"Yeah. Oxygen requirements are up, she was sitting at 98-99% on 30% O2, now she's holding at 95% on 50%. Spontaneous resp rate initially went down around her one-thirty turn, as did her tidal volumes. Resp rate was sixteen, went down to twelve and it's now twenty-four, but tidal volumes are only about two-hundred. BP is down, heart rate is up. Lung sounds are dull on the left hand side. Initially concerned she was in fluid overload, so we gave furosemide. There was a good result from that and she seemed to stabilise for a short time following it, but now." Ellie gave a shrug, she's going back the way."

"She could be sore."

He caught sight of the exasperated look that crossed Ellie's face before she pulled it back into a calm mask. "Doesn't explain her reduced blood pressure or the reduction in tidal volumes," she reminded him gently.

"No." He sighed. "It doesn't."

"And I'm not comfortable giving more morphine and depressing her respiratory system further."

"That's fair."

"We took some blood gases." She pressed the thin, narrow sheet of paper across to him, and not for the first time he wondered why these looked like shopping receipts, they were a nightmare to keep track of in the notes.

"PO2 is a little low, PCO2 is borderline," he murmured to himself. "Any temperature?" He asked Ellie.

"Nope."

"And her chest drain, is it swinging?"

"It is, no excessive bubbling, only minimal on exhalation or suctioning."

He rubbed at his eyes. "Chest drain is on the right side?"

"Yeah, chest sounds on the right side have been slowly improving.

"Secretions on suctioning?"

"Thin and clear."

"Ok," he gave a nod, repeating, "Ok." As he drew out some more time for him to think this all through. He glanced down at her fluid chart. "I think we get a portable chest x-ray up here and if you can take some bloods, CRP, Co-ag, FBC and a blood culture? I'll get the forms done for you."

"Ok. Do you want an anaesthetic review?"

His lips pursed momentarily. "Yeah, yeah I think that's best," he agreed. "I'll request one. Not sure when they'll get here, think they're paging some of the extra on call back in to help." In the meantime, up her to 70%. oxygen" He glanced at her. "That sound ok?"

"Yeah. You getting the chest x-ray as urgent?"

"I will, but they're also down in the ER." He looked back up at the monitors by the bed. "I'll take a listen into her chest before I go. I'll be staying up here for cover, so if anything changes, you just need to shout."

"Oh, I will," Ellie assured him, a smile tugging at her cheek. She gave him a small nudge with her shoulder. "You need to speak to her husband, he's pretty worried."

Lewis could feel the wince that pulled across his features and he resisted the urge to beg Ellie to do it for him. He could feel the tension radiating from the man and he was very aware that he had absolutely no answers for him. Still though, he stepped forward as the man turned towards him and held out his hand. "Dr McCord, I'm Dr Monaghan, I'm the intern on call in the ICU tonight."

The man took the proffered hand. "I thought it was another doctor who was covering?"

"Dr Garcia is also on call tonight but she's with another patient."

He gave a nod, accepting the explanation. "My wife, what's happening?"

Lewis swallowed nervously. "At the moment I can't say for sure. We're going to run some tests. I've arranged for some blood tests and a chest x-ray, those should give us some more insight and then we can come up with a treatment plan. I'm also going to ask anaesthetics to review the settings on the ventilator, make sure that we're best meeting her respiratory needs."

His cheek twitched and the muscles at his jaw flexed. "How long until you know what's causing this?"

"I'm not sure. I'll mark everything as urgent, but I can't give an exact time frame for you. I'm sorry, I know this is frustrating."

His eyes fluttered shut for a minute, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead as he gave a sigh. "I just want to know what's happening to my wife and that you can treat it."

"We will continue to treat her, I just can't tell you the cause yet and how we treat her may change dependant on any results."

"Ok." Henry sighed again. "Ok."

"I'm just going to have a listen to Secretary McCord's chest, is that ok?"

"Of course."

Lewis watched the man step back from the bed, one arm wrapped around himself, clutching the elbow of the opposite arm, his chin resting on that hand, and his fingers pressing against his mouth. His face was pale and pinched as he watched. Lewis listened to both lungs and gave a nod as he stepped back. He walked back over to Ellie. "Yeah, left side is definitely dull," he agreed. "Was there any trauma to that side?"

"None recorded, damage on that side was all to the ventricular apex."

Lewis nodded as looked back over to the bed. He saw Henry McCord lean over his wife, his forehead pressing to hers, could hear him whisper to her. "Come on, Babe, don't do this to me. Please don't do this."

He looked away sharply from the couple. He needed his head to stay clear, he didn't want to feel emotionally attached; that made things worse. He cleared his throat softly to get Ellie's attention. She looked up at him. "I'm just going to go and make those requests," he told her.

She nodded and went back to gathering her supplies. Lewis glanced once more at the couple in the room and despite his warning to himself, he felt a twist in his chest at the husband's obvious distress. He sighed and shook his head, taking himself back to work.

* * *

 **A/N: Just some of the meanings of the terms used in this chapter for anyone who is interested.**

 **Tidal volumes: The volume of air we take into our lungs.**

 **Chest drains should swing, where the fluid rises and falls in time with inhalation and exhalation. If they aren't then that a sign that it could be blocked. If a chest drain is bubbling then there could be a leak, but it's normal for a small amount of bubble to be present if you breathe out or cough.**

 **PO2: Basically helps analyse how effective the lungs are at pulling oxygen in. PCO2 is the measure of carbon dioxide in the blood.**

 **Bloods: CRP measures is a marker of inflammation and raises with infection. Co-ag is for coagulation and measures if and how well your blood is clotting.**

 **FBC is a full blood count. Blood culture looks for bacteria in your blood.**

 **Any and all mistakes are mine and if I've got it wrong then please feel free to tell me and I can try to adjust it :)**


	21. Chapter 21

Henry lets out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering from the monitors and then back to Elizabeth again, wishing he understood what any of the numbers meant. It doesn't go unnoticed by him that the main ceiling light has now been switched on, illuminating the room in a harsh glow. He watches as Ellie moves the chair on the opposite side of the bed, pushing it back towards the wall, the legs letting out a harsh whine as they scrape against the floor. She looks up apologetically. "Sorry, just making room for the x-ray machine to get in."

"Of course." He glances behind himself. "I'll move this one."

"Oh, you don't have to. I can get it."

He doesn't pay any attention to her, moving behind the chair to lift it out of the way, before going back to stand next to Elizabeth's bed. He rubs at the back of his neck, feeling worse than useless. All he can do is stand and watch. Panic and dread creep over him, and he feels like someone has wrapped him in a sheet of ice.

Ellie is busy, taking Elizabeth's blood, labelling the containers and handing them across to another staff member. Her movements are methodical, smooth, calm and yet they do nothing to ease Henry's frazzled nerves because he can see how her gaze returns consistently to Elizabeth's monitors every few minutes. He feels like he is in the calm before the storm.

Finally, when he can take the tension no longer, he asks, "How bad is it?"

Ellie looks up at him, her eyes sympathetic. "There's something not quite right," she admitted. "But as Dr Monaghan has said, we need more tests to know exactly what it is."

"What do you think it could be?"

"There's a couple of possibilities…" Her brow furrows, her pen twirling between her fingers and she clicks it, in and out, the sound reverberating around the room.

"I want to know what they are," Henry tells her firmly. "You're doing extra tests, what are you looking for?"

She considered her words for a few seconds. "The chest x-ray will show us if Elizabeth is beginning to show any signs of a chest infection, if there are any collections in the lungs-"

"What kind of collection?"

"Normally either blood or air."

Henry bits down on the inside of his bottom lip, barely feeling the pain that the move elicits. "That sounds bad."

"All of them are very treatable," she assures him. "But we need to know just what we're dealing with. These tests will give us a better idea."

"Ok." He looks back down at Elizabeth and he has to lock his knees to stop them from buckling underneath him. She looks so fragile and there is nothing that he can do to help her. His urge is to wrap his arms around her and pull her close to him, but the tubes and lines that are ironically designed to help keep her with him, prevent that. He thinks about telling her to fight this, but he knows that if she has any control in this situation then she's already doing that.

Elizabeth's blonde hair is fanned across her pillow and he remembers how it had looked that morning. She'd been on her side, facing him, one hand partially tucked under her cheek. There had been a ray of light seeping in from a gap in the curtains, and it had glinted off her hair, making it glow. Her cheeks had been tinged pink and her mouth had been set in the smallest of smiles. She had been so calm, so peaceful that he had resisted the urge to wake her, deciding that she needed her rest more than anything he'd had in mind. Part of him…all of him regretted that now and wished that he had woken her, soothed away her initial grumbles with a kiss, held her close and told her just how much he loved her. He knew that she knew he loved her, but how he wished those had been his parting words either in the afternoon, or in the morning. But they weren't. He can't even remember what his last words to her were; he just knows what they weren't.

Elizabeth's hair still shines under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hospital room, but all that really does now is highlight the pale, sickly waxiness of her skin. How did it come to this? He wonders.

The pad of his thumb traces the edge of her cheekbone, her skin cool underneath his touch and he thinks about how she would have turned into his caress, the way she would have smiled at him, and how he would give every cent they had for her to do that now. She doesn't of course, she stays still and silent, and he feels like his heart is straining against his chest, his stomach churning. "I love you," he finally tells her, hoping that she can hear him. He has held the words back all night, for reasons he can't quite explain, but now they tumble easily from him.

His gaze stays on Elizabeth, afraid to look away from her; even for a second. He is distantly aware of Ellie's keen gaze, that she has returned to her table, and he can hear the scratch of her pen against paper. Henry falls silent again.

He's unsure of how much time has passed, he knows it hasn't been long when there is a loud, sharp, repetitive beep from the monitor, accompanied by a wail from the ventilator. Henry's shoulders jerk at the noise and he takes an instinctive step back from the bed.

Ellie is there almost instantly, she pulls at a red button on the wall and this noise almost drowns out the rest of them, a loud, insistent siren.

Feet thud as staff flood into the room.

"Put out a peri-arrest call," Ellie instructs as she pulls the pillow out smoothly from under Elizabeth's head.

Henry feels a hand at his elbow, guiding him away from the bed with a gentle but firm guide, accompanied by an unknown voice, kind but resolute. "Dr McCord, you need to leave the room."

"Elizabeth…what…the alarms…I can't…" The blare of the alarm cuts through his brain and he can't focus. He's a man who has prided himself on his ability to make coherent and decisive arguments in difficult situations, but now his brain isn't linking up with his mouth and his protest, as nonsensical as it is, is falling on deaf ears.

The hand is now linking under his arm, pulling him back. "They need to get into the bed so they can help her. We need to give them space."

Through the people now crowded at Elizabeth's bed, Henry can just make out her face, the same impassive expression there as before, as though she's completely unaware of the chaos now surrounding her. His voice is firmer this time. "I don't want to leave her."

"You can't stay, come on now."

His argument is futile, and he knows it. He can see them peel away Elizabeth's gown and realises that although he doesn't want to leave, he also doesn't want to watch this. Doesn't want to have these images seared onto the back of his eyelids, so he finally acquiesces to the grip on his arm.

The stares of Elizabeth's DS agents are sympathetic and somehow that just makes it worse, they look at him and then bow their heads.

The ward door is propped open and he feels like he's in slow motion as hospital staff run in, past him and towards her room.

Henry tries again to form words to the woman who is walking with him, her hand patting his arm in what is meant to be a reassuring manner, although nothing could reassure him right now. "What's happening to Elizabeth?"

"She needs some extra help just now."

"They said peri- arrest, what does that mean?"

The woman blinks and he can see the discomfort that flickers across her face, the way she sucks in her bottom lip for a moment. "Why don't we get you into the relative's room." It's a statement of intent rather than a question,

He presses her again. "What's happening?"

"In here," She guides him into the relative's room. She flicks the light switch and the light comes on with a low buzzing noise, flickering once, twice before it settles. "Do you want me to make you hot drink?" She asks him.

Henry blinks incredulously. "No, I want to know what's happening to my wife."

"One of the doctor's will be along when they can, they'll explain-"

Frustration wells in his chest and he interrupts. "I want to know how bad this is! I want to know what is going on!" He snaps. His breath falls in harsh rasps and he can see her jerk back at the venom in his tone. He runs a hand through his hair, his chin dropping to his chest for a moment as he collects what is left of his patience. "I'm sorry," he mumbles after a moment.

"It's ok. You must be terribly upset." Her head tilts, her mouth twists sympathetically. "But I'm not the best person to explain any of this to you."

"You're the only one here," Henry points out. He takes another deep breath. "Is it bad?"

There is a moment of silence and he can see her thinking over her words. "She's very unwell just now," she finally tells him. "But the team will do everything they can."

He expects to feel the bottom fall out of his world, but it doesn't. In some ways that would be easier. Instead he just feels numb, and if anything it makes him feel worse. He needs to call Will and the kids and the thought makes him feel dizzy, nauseous.

She speaks again. "Would you like me to wait with you?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's ok."

"Would you like me to bring anything to you?" He gives another shake of his head. He feels her staring at him for a moment before she gives a small nod. "Alright then, well someone will be in when they can."

Henry gives a nod.

Her shoes are quiet on the floor when she turns to leave and the door falls closed behind her with a quiet click.

He waits a minute, breathing in and out, trying to collect his thoughts, the light is still buzzing in the background. A minute, maybe two and he finally reaches into his pocket for his phone.

* * *

Despite that feeling of uneasiness that had niggled at the back of Ellie's head over the last hour or so, she hadn't expected the sudden wail of the alarms. After all she had seen similar situations before and as all the right decisions had been made, she had assumed that it was just nightshift paranoia that had left her with that lingering discomfort.

When the first beeps sounded from the monitor, she had frowned to see that both heart rate and BP were flashing at her. The ventilator followed them, binging its unhappiness at her.

Heart rate was up, one twenty and climbing in every flash, BP had suddenly plummeted and her oxygen saturations were copying that downward trend.

Ellie was on her feet in seconds. The pattern on the arterial line was something she had only ever seen in textbooks or slides. She pulled the emergency buzzer. There was too much happening too quickly, and she knew that this was heading in one direction.

She sees the first of her colleagues run in. "Put out a peri-arrest," she tells them as she pulls the pillow out from under Elizabeth's head. She reaches behind for the ambu-bag, turning the oxygen pipe it was attached to as high as it would go.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie can see Henry McCord being pulled away, can see the look of pained horror that is etching into his features. She looks away, not the time, her attention is needed here. "Can we get the pads on her?" she asks. Her fingers fumble ever so slightly as she tries to disconnect the ventilator from the ET tube. Attaching the bag instead.

She sees Niamh nod at her request, can hear the trundle of the crash cart as it's rolled into the room. The emergency alarm has been turned off now, but the monitor continues it steady, urgent beeping. Niamh peels back the hospital gown, folding it at Elizabeth's waist, placing the de-fib pads on. Ellie hopes they won't be needed.

* * *

Lewis runs into the room, past the auxiliary who is leading the husband from the room. He twists sideways to get past them at the door.

"What do we have?"

"Heart rate is climbing, we're now at one-sixty," Ellie told him. "BP is crashing." She pauses briefly, "The arterial line looks like it's showing pulsus pardadoxus. I'm bagging on 100% oxygen but there's resistance on bagging and her sats are barely at 85%."

"Right." He looks at the flashing numbers. Glances around the room and realises that until the crash team arrives, he's in charge. Sweat prickles at his forehead and the nape of his neck. "I'm going to listen to her chest." He swings the stethoscope from around his neck, glad that his hands aren't trembling. "Can we silence the monitors for a moment, please." He sucks his lower lip in between his teeth when he realises that there are now no lung sounds on her left-hand side. Swallowing back against the lump in his throat, he realises just what he's dealing with and now he's up close, he can see that the veins in her neck are beginning to distend. "I think we have a tension pneumothorax," he announces.

"Heart-rate's up to two-hundred."

He can't wait for the rest of the team. They're probably only minutes away at most, but he's very aware that at this point in time Elizabeth McCord doesn't have those minutes to spare. "Ok, can I get a sixteen-gauge needle and an alcohol swab please." He takes in a large breath as someone hands them to him. He feels from her clavicle, fingers palpating down, finding the second inter-costal space. Another breath and he wipes the area with the swab. "Pause bagging," he instructs. He visualises a line on her chest. Another breath and he stabs downward at ninety degrees, piercing the skin, a hiss of air greeting him. "Bag," he tells Ellie.

The monitors continue to flash, but the relief he expects to feel doesn't come. Her heart rate is still climbing, her oxygen falling. "There's still resistance," Ellie informs him, shaking her head, her lips pulled so thin that the edges of them are turning white.

His palms are sweating underneath his gloves. "Ok, I…I…need a thoracostomy set. Can we prep that please?"

The words are no sooner out his mouth then the monitor lets out a low whine. He sees Maggie frown, leaning across to press her fingertips to the pulse point in Elizabeth's neck. "We've lost output, we're in PEA. Starting chest compressions.

Her fingers fold over each other on top of Elizabeth's chest, pressing down in a series of rapid compressions and he can hear her counting underneath her breath.

He's saved from making another decision by the arrival of the crash team. The head anaesthetist pulling on his gloves at the door as he barks out. "What have we got?"

"Gunshot to the chest approximately 15 hours ago, surgery to repair damage to left lung, drain the pericardium and repair damage to left and right ventricles. Initially recovery uneventful. About half an hour ago, we noticed mild tanchycardia and dullness to the left side along with increasing oxygen requirement. While waiting for the chest x-ray we had a sudden onset tachycardia, hypotension and a drop in sats. Pulsus paradoxus seen on the monitor and resistance when bagging. No lung sounds on the left and neck veins are distended. Air present on needle decompression but it's failed. She's in PEA and we've just started chest compressions. I've asked for a thoracostomy set."

"Alright, any epinephrine given?"

"None yet."

"Ok." The anaesthetist folds his arms across himself as he takes his place at the bottom of the bed, surveying the proceedings and taking immediate charge. He points to one person at a time, reeling off what he wants them to do. "Give one milligram epinephrine. Get blood gases. Prep for finger thoracostomy." He meets Lewis' gaze. "You done one of these before?"

"Yeah, but not during an arrest," he admits.

"You happy to do it now?"

Lewis wants to shake his head, to say no, but he knows he can't, knows he needs to step up. "Of course."

"Good." He waves his hand, sending Lewis to the nurse who is setting up the trolley with enviable speed.

He positions himself at the side of Elizabeth, her skin is dyed orange from the layer of iodine that has been liberally applied in preparation. One of the arrest team positions herself at his right-hand side.

Suddenly there is a loud cracking and he sees Maggie falter in her compressions, a wince crossing her face. "I think I broke a rib."

"Keep going," the anaesthetist tells her. "If we don't get her back then it's the least of her worries. Ease back slightly though, I'd prefer not have a flail chest to deal with."

The compressions restart and Lewis grimaces at the sound of the broken rib scraping and crunching at each one. "I'm ready to start," He announces.

"Ok, pause compressions and bagging."

The nurse next to him, simultaneously lifts Elizabeth's arm above her head, giving him the access he needs. He counts down to the fifth intercostal space. He pauses for a brief second, steadying his hand before he makes the incision with his scalpel. His finger presses into the wound until he can feel the fourth and fifth rib. "Kelly clamp." They're placed into his hand and he widens the cut slightly, before advancing them forward, in between the ribs.

"Bit more pressure," the anaesthetist tells him.

Lewis nods. Cold sweat is breaking out across his back, but he presses firmly with the clamp, wriggling it until he feels the pleural wall puncture. He pulls the kellys back and presses his finger back in, checking he is where he should be. "I'm in," he tells them. He can hear the rush of air and a small gush of blood trickles over his hand and onto the white sheet.

"Good. Now retreat. Recommence bagging and check for output."

"Still no pulse and still in PEA," someone called out.

"Ok, recommence compressions and give another one of epinephrine." He leaned slightly towards Lewis, who's shoulders have deflated. "You did a good job, but it's not always enough on its own to restore spontaneous circulation."

Lewis nodded. He can see the sheen of sweat on Maggie's forehead as she presses quickly down on the chest.

A cycle passes quickly. "Off the chest for a rhythm check." He sees Maggie's arms shaking as she leans up and off Elizabeth's chest. "Can someone else take over chest compression if needed please."

The mechanical voice sounds from the defibrillator, _Ventricular Fibrillation, charge 180, charging…press shock."_

"Everyone stand clear." He nods to the nurse at defibrillator and she nods back, holding down the large orange button. The machine sounds again. _Stand clear, shocking…_ Elizabeth gives a small twitch on the bed. _Shock delivered, recommence CPR._

"Check output please."

"Still nothing," someone calls out.

"Go for another cycle, someone draw up more epinephrine. And someone else run another set of gases."

The room is becoming overly warm, but the team moves seamlessly, or at least that's how it appears to Lewis. He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm before stepping forward to take the set of blood gasses out of the arterial line. His fingers fumble on the catch and he swears under his breath as blood oozes up and over the line, soaking into the sheet in a bright red splotch. He looks up to give Ellie an apologetic glance, but she's too busy bagging to pay any attention, and when he sees the rest of the bedding, he realises she's not going to care about the mark his carelessness has left.

He's at the door to the room, ready to sprint to the analyser, when he hears the low monotone of the defibrillator once again. _Ventricular Fibrillation, charge 200…press shock. Stand clear, shocking…_

There's the dull thud as it delivers another pulse of electricity and the last thing Lewis hears as he races down the ward is, _Shock delivered…_


	22. Chapter 22

**Time line overlaps between some sections in this chapter.**

* * *

The night sky is pitch black, so when Henry looks out the hospital window all he can see is his own blurred form and the room he is standing in reflected back at him. His phone is in his hand and his thumb hovers over Will's number. He knows he needs to call him, but his brain is struggling to find the words he should use. He encouraged him to go home and now look where they are. He pinches the bridge of his nose, it might not have made a difference even if Will had stayed, but then that was part of the problem, he just couldn't be sure.

The room is almost oppressively silent other than the ticking of the wall clock, and the sound of it reverberates around Henry's head. He can't stop thinking about Elizabeth; his heart feels like it's sitting in his throat, and with every tick of that damn clock he wonders if this is the moment he's lost her.

Another tick and he lets out a large huff of breath, hitting the call button and bringing his phone to his ear. It rings four times and with each ring, Henry feels worse. When Will answers his voice is heavy with sleep, but even so it has a sharp, worried tone to it, "Henry, what is it?"

"You need to come back in, it's Elizabeth…something's happened"

There's a rustle of covers. "What's happened?"

"I don't know exactly." Henry runs his hand through his hair. "They were running some tests, then all these alarms sounded. They said it was a peri-arrest."

He can hear Will's sharp inhale. "I'm on my way."

Henry taps his foot against the floor. "Will, should I phone the kids?"

There is a brief moment of hesitation and then a heavy sigh. "Yeah, yeah you probably should. I won't be long."

The call cuts at that and Henry's face sinks into his hands at the thought of calling their kids to haul them back in here. He feels like he should be crying, should be inconsolable, but he feels like he is suspended motion. None of this feels real to him.

Still, he can't help but notice that his hands are trembling now as he brings up Stevie's number, wondering how they hell he got to here.

* * *

Jason snores softly, whilst Alison is face down in her pillow, with a proprietary hand laid across the sweet packet. The TV drones lowly in the background and Stevie is half-watching it, rolled onto her side, her eyelids beginning to droop as her phone starts to buzz softly.

Her head jerks up, her neck twinging in protest at the sudden move. Despite the phone being next to her, she fumbles for a moment in the dull room, the phone slipping from her grasp. She pushes her hair back off her face as she answers, "Dad, what is it, what's wrong?"

She feels Alison begin to stir next to her, but Jason is still snoring, his head tilted back on his pillow, his mouth agape. Her Dad's voice is quiet, subdued as he asks her to come to the hospital. Stevie blinks, possibilities flooding her brain, none of them positive. "We'll be right in, but Dad is Mom ok?"

Alison is instantly wide awake and sitting upright now at her sister's words, and Stevie can see her staring at her out of the corner of her eye. She turns to meet her sisters gaze and Alison whispers softly, "What is it?"

Stevie gives a shrug because she honestly doesn't know; it doesn't escape her notice how non-committal her Dad is being on the phone, repeating his request that they come to the hospital. She sees Alison give Jason a shake and he swats her away with his hand, grumbling, "Tired, go 'way."

She takes a deep breath and tries again, afraid of next question but needing to know the answer. "Dad, is Mom alive?"

Alison pauses in her attempts to wake up her brother, head swivelling and her mouth opening in horrified shock. The words also seem to pull Jason out of his half-sleep, his eyes opening and staring wide eyed at them both. Stevie doesn't doubt that events of the last day have just come flooding back to her little brother.

The seconds her Dad takes to answer her question must be the longest, most torturous seconds of Stevie's life and his answer brings little relief, "I don't know." The words sound like they've been torn from him and she hears his breath stutter and catch at his admission.

She calculates the lack of traffic in DC and tries to work out how long it will take to get for them to get back to the hospital. "We can be there in about ten…fifteen minutes. Dad…I love you."

His voice is low as he returns the sentiment and Stevie ends the call, lifting her face to meet the panicked gaze of her siblings. "We need to go back to the hospital," she tells them, getting clumsily to her feet.

Jason is shoving the covers off himself. "Yeah I picked up on that."

"Good, so let's just get our shoes and coats on and go."

"Stevie, wait!" Alison calls after her.

Stevie turns on her heel. "We need to go!" She tells them, her voice rising an octave.

Alison blinks, her eyes watering. "Stevie…what did Dad say? You asked him…" she swallows heavily, her voice cracking as she breaks off, her eyes wide and pleading. "What was his answer?"

Jason is staring at her as well and he's lost all of his normal posturing, his shoulders are sloped, his mouth set in a downward turn and his fingers are gripping the duvet cover he's just pushed to one side. She looks between them, her mind racing for a moment before she decides she just needs to be honest. "He doesn't know." She gestures towards the door. "But we need to go."

They both nod, their movements are slow and jerky and Stevie wants to scream at them to hurry up, but she knows that she's being unfair to them and that what feels like minutes is really just a few extra seconds. Her hands and arms shake as she pulls on her own shoes. She can feel them behind her, sees Jason stumble with his laces and she bites back her irrational anger. Alison is hugging her jacket around herself and sniffing.

Jason swears under his breath, as the lace falls out from between his fingers again and he simply shoves the loose laces down the sides of his trainers, tucking them out the way. He jumps up. "Right, ready."

Stevie knows that her Mom would never let that slide, would tell him to take the time to tie his laces, that it's dangerous to leave them like that, but she doesn't say any of that to him. She just wants to get to the hospital as quickly as she possibly can and so she shepherds them out into the cold night, where the car is waiting for them.

* * *

The anaesthetist rubs his gloved thumb against his cheek as he looks over the most recent blood gases. In the background he can hear the thud and creak of the bed as the chest compressions continue. The gases thankfully aren't terrible, there's some time to play with, but it won't be much. He trails his gaze back up and over Elizabeth. They've corrected the cause of the arrest, but he knows that isn't always enough. He has always wondered why there are times they get some people back but not others, he suspects it might be luck, or lack thereof. He hears the puff of the ambu-bag as another two breathes are squeezed out, into her lungs. "Can we have another rhythm check?" He asks.

 _Ventricular Fibrillation, shock advised, charge to two-twenty, press charge, press charge_ the machine drones at them.

He gives a nod of his head, stating, "Everyone stand clear." He sees the team take a step back and nods at the team member in charge of the machine. They press the orange button again. The thud reverberates, her body twitches, her head rolling slightly on the bed.

There's a gap of two seconds before the machine sounds again.

 _Ventricular Fibrillation, shock advised, charge to two-twenty, press charge, press charge_

He nods again. The defibrillator delivers its fourth shock, its bland, automatic tone announcing it to the room. _Shock delivered, check output._

A rhythm begins to beat out on monitor, but he holds his breath, she's had PEA before, so until they confirm an output, that means nothing. Maggie leans forward, pressing her index and middle finger against the pulse point at Elizabeth's neck. "We have a pulse," she announces.

Everyone in the room visibly relaxes at the words. The anaesthetist gives a nod. "Good work everyone, now lets get her stabilised." He nods at Lewis. "We need to place a tube into that thoracostomy, then I want a chest x-ray to confirm positioning and check that we haven't missed any further damage." He nods at Ellie. "You happy to bag until we get the tube secure?"

Ellie gave a nod. "Of course."

"Thank you." He watches as the team gets ready, following his instructions. He considers his earlier thoughts. If it does sometimes just come down to luck, then Secretary Elizabeth McCord has had it in spades the last twenty-four hours.

* * *

Will can't help but stop at the doors to the ICU, making an attempt to peer through the glass of the long, thin rectangular window set into the door. He can only make out that the lights are on at the top of the ward, nothing else and his stomach sinks.

He considers pressing the buzzer, because he suspects that if anyone had updated Henry then his brother-in-law would have phoned him, which he hasn't, and if he's honest, he's not sure he can sit in that relative's room, waiting. His finger hovers at the buzzer and then his arm drops, he doesn't want to pull anyone away from her when she needs them most. He feels powerless, transported back to when he was thirteen, leaning in through the passenger window of the car and pleading with his Mom to tell him what to do.

His feet are heavy as he turns and walks to the room to wait with Henry. The kids are already in there, their jackets over their pyjamas, hair sticking up at odd angles and that same expression on their face that Lizzie had when they brought her to see him at the hospital that night thirty four years ago. They're pale, eyes red rimmed, holding onto control by a thread, trying to be brave.

Henry looks like a lost soul, his eyes are hollow, and Stevie is grasping onto his hand, Will can see that he isn't even returning the comfort, his fingers slack, hanging loosely in hers. He looks up when the door clicks shut behind Will. "Someone brought some tea in for me, but other than that they haven't been back yet," he tells him.

Will nods, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down for a second before letting it go with a hiss. It's what he thought, no news yet, but that doesn't make it easier. "What happened?" He asks. "You said they were running tests before it."

"Um yeah." Henry's eyes are dazed, he looks like a man who has no idea where he is or how he got there. "When I got back from seeing you off, they were giving her a medication. Said it was to stop her system being overloaded by the blood transfusion, that she was working harder than before; they wanted to be cautious." He visibly gulps and swallows. "She seemed to be doing ok for a while after it, so…I fell asleep for a bit…"

Will can see the admission pains him, can see the guilt that's turning him inside and out, but he can't help but push him. He needs to know what happened if he's going to figure out just what Lizzie's chances are. "Then what happened?"

"They were taking bloods, bringing the doctor up to review her, they asked for a chest x-ray." He blinked a couple of times. "I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't think…the monitors just started going." The muscle in his jaw twitches as he returns to that moment in time.

"Why did they want the x-ray? What were they looking for?"

"Infection, or air…blood in her lungs."

Will sees Alison wince at the words but he ignores it, just as he ignores the way Jason's head drops down to his chest, as he stares at the floor, his fists curling in on themselves. "What alarmed?" He asks urgently.

Henry shook his head. "I don't know."

"What did they say?"

"Ellie…she pulled an alarm. Said it was a peri-arrest. They wouldn't tell me what that meant, just said she was very unwell." He looks up. "What does it mean?"

Will bits the inside of his cheek. "It means that if they don't do something fast then her heart will stop." Henry's shoulders shake, whilst Stevie studies the floor and he can see a singular tear roll down and drip off the edge of her nose. "Henry, did they say anything else while you were in there?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know," he admits on a sigh.

"I need to know!" Will can hear the sharp edge to his own voice, he knows it's unfair, knows his brother-in-law is suffering and a small part whispers he should stop pushing, but the bigger part is screaming at him for answers.

It's Alison who jumps to her Dad's defence. "If he knew he'd tell you," she snaps back at him.

Will runs a hand through his hair, gripping momentarily at the strands, feeling the tug at his scalp. "Henry, she was fine. I saw the numbers. I don't understand how this happened. If you can just tell me…tell me…" He throws his hands outwards. "Tell me what they said about there being blood or air in her lungs."

"Just that they were looking for it."

There's a growl from Will's throat. He's not annoyed with Henry, he's annoyed at himself. He's annoyed that he left, can't help but wonder what might have been. "She was fine," he repeats again, now thinking aloud. "She must have been compensating, but even then…it shouldn't have been so quick." He rubs agitatedly at his jaw. "She was stable," he insists again.

"Uncle Will, stop," Stevie tells him, looking up and wiping at her eyes with the edge of her pyjama top. "This isn't helping."

But he can't stop, it's like someone's released a valve and he can't hold it back, everything spews out of him, he's muttering it, "She was meant to be stable. Peri-arrest…it came on quickly…if they thought it was her lungs..."

It's Henry who explodes first. "What does it matter!" He's on his feet, his cheeks flushing. He can't listen to more of this, the questions, the guilt and the what ifs are already sounding in his own head, he doesn't need anyone else's. "What difference could it possibly make now?"

Will looks at him, he feels oddly calm, his next words trickle out as if they should be plainly obvious already. "Because, she shouldn't have survived the gunshot, but she did. I need to know what happened because I need to know her chances. I don't know if she can be that lucky twice."

Henry blinks at him, giving a slow shake of his head as he turns and walks away. He goes to stand at the window, his hand across his mouth, his whole body so tense it looks as though it might snap. The kids sit in silence.

Will glances down at the tea set laid out on the coffee table, fine china teacups sitting on delicate saucers. He chokes back a panicked laugh. They've given them the good tea set; they're screwed.

* * *

Studying the x-ray on the screen, the anaesthetist taps at the image of the left lung. "That is a fairly significant pneumothorax. Chest tube positioning is good though." He claps Lewis's shoulder. "Good job."

"Thank you, Sir, but I feel I should have caught it sooner."

"Looking at her numbers she did one hell of a job compensating for it, especially considering the pre-existing trauma. For what it's worth, no-one, not even me would have seen that deterioration coming."

"Any idea what caused it?" Ellie asked, from the top end of the bed. She's fixed the ventilator back onto Elizabeth's ET tube and with Maggie's help is sliding the pillow back under her head.

"There's a small nick to one of the left ribs, potentially from the bullet, so it could have been a bone fleck. Or it could have quite easily just have been a complication from the ventilator, or the central line." His finger traces the screen again. "Fracture to the 6th anterior rib on the right side. She's going to feel like hell when she wakes up."

Maggie winces at his words, she knows it's a common occurrence during CPR, but she still feels a bit guilty about it. Ellie gives her a sympathetic smile and then has another thought. "Did you ask someone to speak to her husband?"

The anaesthetist looks up. "Ah…no. She's fairly stable now so we can go and do that." He taps the chart. "I've left the parameters for the ventilator settings written here. If you can get blood gases in an hour, I've also written up a plan to bring the ventilators support levels down depending on how she responds and what the gases show." He scribbles a signature on the chart. "You ok for me to send the husband back in?"

Ellie's mouth quirks as she glances around the room. Packaging is strewn around it, the trolley with the blood-stained instruments from the thoracostomy is still lying out, whilst the defibrillator is pushed against one wall and Elizabeth's sheets are splattered in blood and iodine. She doesn't think it will do Henry McCord any good to see any of this. "Not yet, we'll get her comfortable and then he can come back in and sit with her. I'll send someone out to get him when we're done."

"Alright, Dr Monaghan, you should come with me. We don't often get to give them good news after something like this, so it's nice to see for a change."

The two men leave the room and Ellie gives a sigh, surveying the damage. "Can you give me a hand?" she asks Maggie.

"Of course. It's almost 4am, you want to just get her washed? Since we need to change the sheets anyway?"

"Think that's the best idea." She gives a snort. "Will we just send him in," she echoes, shaking her head in disbelief.

* * *

Henry hasn't been able to find the words to comfort his children, he feels like the worst father in the world, but everything he thinks about saying sticks in his throat. How does he make any of this better?

Will at least has calmed, he's sitting against the corner of one of the sofas, his elbow propped on the arm of it and his chin resting on the upturned palm of his hand. He hasn't said a word since his outburst, but Henry recognises the look on his face, it's the same one that Elizabeth gets when she's trying to figure out the impossible. The difference is that Will taps his fingers against the sofa cushion as he thinks, drawing irritated looks from Jason.

As the clock continues to tick, Henry can't help but wonder that if they're still waiting it means that there is still hope.

Another five minutes pass and the door finally opens, two men in scrubs stepping into the room. Henry recognises the younger one from earlier, but the second one he hasn't seen before. He steps forward. "How's Elizabeth?"

The older man looks around the room. "Are you all together?"

"Yes." Henry takes another step forward. "How's my wife?"

"I'm Dr Tim Miller, I'm the lead on call anaesthetist tonight." He is gestured towards the chair. "Do you want to sit down Dr McCord?"

"No. I…we just want to know what's happened."

"I'm glad to tell you that we have managed to stabilise Elizabeth's condition."

Henry feels like a weight has been lifted from him, he can hear his kids sounds of joy buzzing in the background of the room. "Thank God," he breathes out. "Thank God." His hands shake as he presses them against his mouth. He feels like he could throw up from the relief coursing through him.

"I won't lie, it was very touch and go for a while. Elizabeth suffered a complication from her left lung collapsing, where the air escapes out of the lung but then becomes trapped within the chest wall. It meant that with each breath Elizabeth took in, the pressure in her chest increased, pushing her lungs and hearts to one side. We had to insert another chest tube into the left side of her chest to relieve this pressure."

"She had a tension pneumothorax," Will clarified.

"She did," he gives Will a quizzical look.

"My brother in law is a trauma surgeon," Henry clarifies.

"Ah." He gave a small frown. "I do have to advise you that Elizabeth's heart did stop before we were able to treat this-"

Henry's heart stutters at that. "Does that mean there's a risk of further brain damage?" He interrupts.

"Elizabeth received prompt treatment, there was oxygen given throughout and we ran oxygen levels in her blood both during and following her arrest. Given what those levels showed, I am hopeful that this won't worsen any impact her earlier arrest may have had."

"But you can't rule it out," Will states.

There is a slow shake of his head. "No, until she regains consciousness, we can't give any guarantees." His cheek gives a twitch. "I also need to inform you that that during the compressions to restart Elizabeth's heart, one of her ribs were fractured. It's a common but unfortunate side effect of CPR."

"Will that affect her long-term recovery?" Henry asks. He feels like even when he gets good news it's followed by another blow. His brain is already reeling and he's not sure how much more he can really take in.

"No, it will cause a few weeks of discomfort, but shouldn't cause any long-term side effects."

"Well that's one thing," Henry sighs.

"What caused the original pneumothorax?" Will asks, he's standing now, his fingers tapping against his thigh.

"It may have been a slow tear caused by damage from the bullet, it could have been a complication from the ventilator. We simply can't say for definite."

Henry sits back in his chair, he feels drained, exhausted. He just wants to see Elizabeth, to reassure himself that she really is still with him. "What does it matter, Will?"

He gives a muttered inaudible reply.

"I'd like to see Elizabeth." Henry informs them.

"Of course. The nursing staff are just making her comfortable. They'll come in and get you when they're ready."

Henry nods, standing as the two men stand. He offers them his hand, shaking both of theirs in turn. "Thank you," he tells them. He thought she was gone, that he had lost her, thought he had seen his wife alive for the last time as he was hustled from that room.

As the doctors leave the relative's room, Henry feels his children rush him, hugging him tightly. He returns the hug, wrapping his arms as tightly around the three of them as he can, thanking his lucky stars that, for now, their family is still intact. He knows there is a long road ahead of them, knows that nothing is certain, but for now she's still on that road with him.


	23. Chapter 23

It is the thunk of the door closing that pulls Henry's attention away from the hug his children have enveloped him in, and he realises that Will has left the room. He kisses Alison's hair, as she's the closest to him and tells them, "Hang on a minute. I'm just going to check on your Uncle Will."

He steps back from them, feeling a slight pull of guilt at leaving them so soon, but he's concerned about just what his brother-in-law has stormed out of there to chase after. His concern is proved to be well-founded when he finds him questioning the younger of the doctors in the corridor. Will's stance is unfriendly, bordering on aggressive. He's standing a touch too close for comfort, his arms crossed across his body, and a tight scowl set on his features as he interrogates him.

"When you prescribed the diuretic, what were her symptoms?"

"It was the resident on-call who prescribed it at the time, but I believe there had been a slight increase in your sister's oxygen requirements."

"How slight?"

"From 30% to 40%, which was still within the initial parameters laid out by the anaesthetist."

Will shifts on his feet. "What were her sats?"

"As I said didn't provide the initial review, so I can't be exact, but they were in the 90s."

Henry calls out as he steps forward. "Will."

Will shakes his head at him and turns back to Lewis. "Did her vitals improve after the furosemide?"

"They stabilised."

"Then what happened?"

He's like a dog with a bone, Henry thinks. He throws question after question, never satisfied with the answer. The young doctor is handling it fairly well, his answers calm and level, although Henry can see the nervous bob of his Adam's apple as he replies, "There was slight increase to her heart rate and a drop to her blood pressure along with another increase to her oxygen requirements."

Henry tries again, he can sense his brother in law's growing agitation. "Will, they've explained what happened."

"I know what happened, but I want to know exactly how it happened," he replied shortly.

Lewis managed a small, tight smile. "It's fine. I'm happy to explain. Given the change, I requested a set of bloods and asked for a chest x-ray."

Running a hand through his hair, Henry tried again. "Will, I already told you about this bit."

Will doesn't even look at him, his tone brusque. "I want to hear it from them. You asked for a chest x-ray, so did you suspect a pneumothorax?"

"It was a possibility, which is why I requested the x-ray."

"Did you take blood gases?"

Lewis nodded. "We did. Her PaO2 was slightly low, but she was only on 50% oxygen. I felt increasing that would help hold her saturations until we got the chest x-ray."

Henry is lost now, the words they're using have no real meaning to him and he's beginning to wonder if this is how others feel when he starts talking about his saints and moral constructs. A slow thump starts at front of his forehead at their conversation, as Will continues to press on with his interrogation.

"Did you consider a needle decompression?"

"The guidelines only suggest carrying out a needle decompression if there are signs of a tension pneumothorax. At that time, although Elizabeth's symptoms didn't indicate that. When they did, I carried out a needle decompression."

"Before or after she arrested."

"Before. The needle decompression failed, and the arrest happened following that but before we could carry out a thoracostomy."

"What gauge of needle did you use?"

"A sixteen."

Henry shook his head, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he didn't want to listen to this, he'd lived it and he didn't want to have more details to add to the already vivid memory that replayed over and over in his head. "Will, stop this. It's not going to help."

Will drew in a sharp breath. "Why a sixteen?"

"I based it on Elizabeth's slight build and the literature regarding the sizing-"

"Will!" Henry snapped, his voice rising slightly, he wasn't quite shouting, but he wasn't far from it. "Stop it!" He could tell that Will was about to turn back, start another volley of questions and so he turned to the doctor instead. "If you could give us some time."

He gave a nod. "Of course."

A growl of annoyance escaped the back of Will's throat as he rounded on Henry. "What did you do that for?"

"Because it wasn't helping anybody."

"It might have helped!" Will insisted shortly.

Henry scoffed, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Really? And how's that?"

Will pressed his fingertips into his forehead, his voice was low and raspy when he replied, "It might help me make sense of what happened."

"You were the one telling me that this didn't make sense, remember?"

Will's lips pursed. "I told you it wasn't fair. Not exactly the same thing."

Crossing his arms over himself, Henry told him. "Then explain the difference, because to me it looks like we were both trying to find reason in a situation where there is none."

"There's always reason in medicine," Will replied. He threw an arm outwards, letting it arch aimlessly through mid-air. "Why Merchant picked Lizzie, why it happened today, why his letters got lost; that doesn't make sense, but medicine does. It's fact, evidence, patterns…" He tailed off for a moment, his eyes flickering shut for a moment as his head fell back. His face tilted towards the ceiling.

Henry wondered if it was a co-incidence that both Elizabeth and her brother had sought out careers where reason prevailed, or whether it had been another thing that their shared loss united them in.

A second to collect himself and Will brought his face forward again. "Lizzie was stable. All the numbers said so. All the evidence pointed to it." He licked his lips nervously, as his fingers danced against the side of his thigh. "She shouldn't have been able to compensate for so long, not with the trauma she already had."

"But she did," Henry pointed out saliently.

Will continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I didn't see it coming, I got it wrong, so wrong."

Henry took a step forward, his hand lifting to rest on Will's upper arm. "I don't think anybody saw it coming."

He blinked, his head tilting as he stared at Henry. "You did," he croaked. "I could see it on your face, that blind panic."

"If I'd seen it coming, I wouldn't have sent you home." His grip tightened momentarily on Will's arm. "There's blame enough to go round at the moment if we look for it, but Elizabeth is alive."

Will jerked his arm out of Henry's grasp. "No thanks to me." He shook his head, his finger levelling at him. "You don't get it. I became a doctor to save lives, so that what happened to…" he broke off, shaking his head before trying again. "So that I wouldn't let anyone down again. And when it mattered. When it came down to it, I let Lizzie down." His arm dropped to his side. "You're a doctor of theology, those numbers on those monitors, they mean nothing to you. You look at Lizzie in that bed and you just see her clinging to life. But those numbers meant something to me, I looked at them and I saw someone who was getting better." His fingers gripped his forehead again, before running up into his hair. "I went home, not because you told me to, but because I thought she was stable. So, when Lizzie needed me, when she started to deteriorate, where was I? I was in my bed!" His rant finished on a hiss, his face twisting in self-loathing.

Henry considered his next words carefully. "You told me that I couldn't blame myself for something that wasn't within my control. Well this wasn't within yours."

"I get that I couldn't have prevented it; not all of it anyway, but if I'd stayed then I might have spotted the initial pneumothorax. Then it wouldn't have converted, it wouldn't have been an emergency and her heart wouldn't have stopped."

"Lot of ifs in there," Henry pointed out. "Still wasn't in your control."

For a moment, Will was silent as he stared towards the doors of the ICU, then his shoulders gave a judder and he pulled his gaze away. "I'm going to go," he told him quietly.

Henry felt a bubble of anger and frustration well up at Will's tone. "You didn't let Elizabeth down, but if you go now then you are."

"You don't get it; I can't sit in there with her. Not after this."

"No believe me, that I get." Henry's voice rose slightly, his jaw gritted. "You think I found it easy to sit with Elizabeth and feel like I was responsible for her being in that bed in the first place?"

"That's different."

Henry's palm scrubbed across his jaw, his thumb rubbing at the side of his mouth as he forced himself to stay calm. "No, it's not. Elizabeth needs us."

Will gave a humourless laugh. "No, Lizzie needed me hours ago and I wasn't here." He held his hand up to stop Henry from objecting again. "I spoke to her surgeon last night. When I went to take Alison back to the waiting room; he was at the nurse's desk. I wanted to know exactly what her injuries had been, but I knew that you wouldn't want to hear it."

"Why?" Henry asked, a confused frown creasing his brow. "Why did you need to know?"

"So, I could figure out what was going to come next. Henry, Lizzie shouldn't even have made it into theatre."

Henry blanched, the colour draining from his face. "He said that?"

"He didn't need to. Her injuries they spoke for themselves. Lizzie got lucky; you know what saved her?"

"I don't think I want to hear this," Henry told him, half turning away from him. He'd heard enough about how close he'd came to losing his wife to last him a lifetime.

Will continued unabated. "The damage to her heart caused the sac around it to fill with blood, which meant it couldn't beat properly, so her blood couldn't circulate as well."

"Stop it." Henry held up his hand in a half plea.

"If it hadn't been for that, the blood loss from her injuries would have been catastrophic. She'd have been lucky to have made it to the ER, and she sure as hell wouldn't have made it to theatre." His eyes looked up, meeting Henry's. "I knew we'd need to wait to find out how well she was going to recover, but I thought if she'd came through that, if she'd made it to the ICU and she was stable, with her obs improving, then we were home safe." He took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I got it so wrong. I had the power to make a difference to her. I let her down and sitting by her bed now isn't going to change that. She doesn't need me now."

"You're not leaving because you're not needed, you're running because you're scared," Henry countered. "And if you walk out that door, I promise that you'll regret it." His voice dropped, it was low, cajoling, "The kids need you here."

Will's head shook slowly from side to side. "No, they don't." He looked away from Henry. "If anything changes, then give me a call."

"Don't do this, take a few hours and clear your head. But don't turn your back on her, if this was the other way round, she'd be here, and you know it."

Will's mouth gave the slightest twitch, a small almost half smile. "Yeah, but then Lizzie was always the better of us."

Henry felt a surge of anger. "You're being a coward."

"I'm being pragmatic, Lizzie has you and the kids; she doesn't need me sitting staring at her." His hand lifted slightly before fluttering uselessly back down to his side. His face set in grim determination as he stated again, "I'm going home."

There's a small cough from behind them and Henry turns on his heels to see his eldest standing watching them, her eyes wary as they flicker between both of them. "I came out to check everything was ok."

Will answers before Henry can. "It's fine." His gaze moves to Henry but avoids making eye contact. "I'll be in touch to find out how she is."

Feeling Stevie's gaze on them, Henry bites back a plethora of insults, forcing his rage back into the box he's been forced to push it into for the last sixteen hours and silently watches his brother in law walk away from them, not once looking over his shoulder. He lets out a quiet, annoyed tsk. When he turns Stevie is looking at the retreating form of Will's back, her expression of disappointment is so reminiscent of Elizabeth's whenever she lamented Will's latest choice in life, that for a second his breath catches in his throat. Her brow furrows in confusion as her eyes meet Henry's. "He's really leaving?"

"Looks like it."

"Do you think he'll come back?"

Henry tuns a harried hand through his hair. "I don't know," he admits. "I hope so." He steps towards his daughter and drapes his arm around her shoulders.

"Maybe he just needs a break."

"Maybe," he replies non-committedly before making the decision to change the subject, asking her, "You guys holding up?"

"Yeah. We just want her to wake up soon."

Henry kisses the top of her head. "I know, me too."

* * *

The clock in the waiting room ticks away another half an hour before the waiting room door clicks open again and they're told that they can see Elizabeth. Henry is surprised when it's Jason who asks, "Can I come in with you first?" His son has been the quietest of his kids since his early outburst and his discomfort had been evident earlier on.

"Of course you can," Henry assures him.

Jason falls into step with him as they walk down the ward, but when Henry looks across at him so he can at least try to offer him some reassurance, he sees that Jason is looking down at his own feet.

Elizabeth's room smells like soap, the light scent of jasmine lingering in the air from her shower gel. Henry flashes back to that morning, to when he leaned into kiss her goodbye and he could smell it on her skin, mingling with her perfume. It's a jarring memory, he feels like this side of her doesn't belong in such a clinical environment.

Elizabeth looks the same, her face smooth, unconcerned, as though the last hour and a half hadn't happened, it was almost as though he'd dreamed it all. Henry leans forward, kissing her forehead, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone. Relief thrums through him at the ability to touch her again, that she's really still with him.

Jason is lingering at the door and he's tugged his jacket around himself, one of the laces to his trainers has come loose and is trailed across the floor. He looks younger than his fifteen years, his teenage bravado gone now. "You want to come up here, Jace?"

He hesitates for a second before he nods, shuffling forward. His hands dig into his pocket as he looks down at the bed and the only sound punctuating the silence is the beeps from the monitor and the quiet, rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator. Jason hesitates, one hand reaching out of his jacket, the fingertips slowly coming to rest on top of Elizabeth's, his touch as light as a feather as he fights the urge to pull away.

Henry rests his hand on Jason's shoulder. "You alright?"

Jason gives a slow shake of his head. "Not really," he admits, his voice low. "I was a jerk to Mom this morning."

"I told you, she wasn't angry," Henry tries to reassure him.

"I know, but I still feel bad." He looks briefly at his Mom's face and then looks back down at her hand again before he continues. "When we visited earlier, I couldn't even come up to the bed." He swallows against a lump in his throat. "Because she didn't look like Mom, and I was scared."

"I was scared as well," Henry admits. "I still am."

"But you still sat with her." Jason's fingers twitched against Elizabeth's before they finally curve around hers, loosely holding them. "I didn't even want to look at her. I figured I could see her and would tell her I'm sorry when she woke up. Then you phoned and…Dad…" He looked up and briefly met Henry's gaze before he looked down again. "What if earlier today was the last time I'd seen Mom, and I hadn't been brave enough to see her, to properly see her I mean."

Henry doesn't know what he can say to that, any words he can think of sound trite, cliched and he knows they won't make any of this better for Jason. He squeezes his shoulder, a silent sign that he's there, that he's listening.

Jason rubs his eyes with a clenched fist, frowning, annoyed at the fact he wants to cry. "I don't know what to do. I can't take back this morning and I don't know if she can hear me now."

"Tell her anyway," Henry suggests. "Your Mom will always fight for you, and she'll always listen out for you. There's lots of things that I regret from yesterday, lots of things I wish I had said."

"Have you said them to her now?"

"Some of them."

Jason's grip tightened on his Mom's fingers, squeezing them tightly. He took a deep breath, in and out before his shoulders deflate further. "Don't know if I can."

Henry considers his options. "Why don't I wait outside, give you five minutes and if you want to say something to her then you can, and if you don't," he shrugs, "Then that's ok as well."

"Suppose we could try it."

Henry gives a nod, squeezes Jason's arm before he walks to the door. He waits by the window, and through the slatted blinds, he can see that after a minute or two of hesitation, that Jason's mouth is moving. He hopes that he's right, that Elizabeth can hear him, or at the very least saying the words brings some comfort to his son.


End file.
